


undisclosed desires

by outphan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Celebrities, Dan is a brat, Director - Freeform, Director!phil, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Musicians, Phandom Big Bang, Phandom Big Bang 2018, Tension, kind of?, musician!Dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 03:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16632224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outphan/pseuds/outphan
Summary: Daniel Howell is UK's most popular musician. He loves his music, the world he's a part of. But Dan Howell doesn't. Then the director of his new music video quits and soon a storm begins that cannot be stopped.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for phandom big bang 2018! massive thanks to [Tasha](http://yourfriendlyblogstalker.tumblr.com/) for the beta  
> also a special shoutout to [Amethyst](http://amethysthollis.tumblr.com) for putting up with my BS  
> title and quote is from the Muse song of the same name  
> the fic mentions and uses modified lyrics of Dan's Diss Track which can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xACdTzmyaQI)  
> art for the fic by the amazing illodie can be found [here](https://illodie.tumblr.com/post/180150308975/my-piece-for-pbb-thanks-to-my-lovely-author)! go give it some love!
> 
> tw for homophobia and use of homophobic language!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I want to reconcile the violence in your heart  
>  I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask  
> I want to exorcise the demons from your past  
> I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart_

“So when is the song dropping?”

Dan looks at the amused and pixelated face of Nick Jonas on his laptop screen. “Your big head is blocking my view.”

“Oh, I thought we were FaceTiming because you wanted to see my pretty face.”

“Nah.” Dan in London stares out the window, looking down on the rainy and sad streets, before turning back. “I miss the sunshine.”

“You never go outside.” Nick moves, the beautiful and sandy beach of Malibu visible behind him. “So when is it out?”

He hates when their chat becomes about business. Technically, it’s not about business, but they do have a limit on work-related talks. 10 minutes at the beginning of a FaceTime session. Today, Nick already geeked out about his upcoming album and Dan told him about his ideas for the music video.

“Two weeks. If you want it now, I can just send it over, you know.”

“But I want to buy it. Support the struggling artist or whatever.” He grins so widely that even Dan’s cheeks hurt.

He likes talking with Nick. It’s easy to banter with him, he knows all about the industry, all about the stress Dan goes through. He likes that it’s not one of those pretend friendships for the sake of media attention.

“Sure, cause I need the money. Can you also tweet about it?”

“Done.”

Dan cocks his head to the side. It’s been a couple of months since he’s seen Nick face to face. When you’re rich and your job isn’t really a 9-to-5, you can just take the plane. But Nick’s been busy with recording his own album and spending all his free time with his current boo and Dan would rather just mope in his flat in London.

“I miss you, babe.”

Nick softly smiles. Dan’s not afraid to say this, especially to Nick because he knows he’s happy to hear it. They’ve spent too many hours on the other’s sofa (occasionally, even bed) wasted and talking shit. “I miss you, too. You could come out to LA.”

“Nah, the shooting is soon.”

Nick nods, but doesn’t say anything. He’s sitting silently, barely moving, just staring at Dan. It makes him question whether the app is frozen. Then, suddenly, Nick asks very quietly, “Do you ever get lonely, Dan?”

There are sirens in the background. His neighbours are blasting music. Everything is as it should be, but a simple question shook his world. It’s a question, it’s a  _ fact, _ he doesn’t like to think about. He ignores it most of the time, when the empty and hollow feeling appears in his chest. How can he be alone when he’s surrounded by the millions of people in London, when he does something that’s been his dream since he was a kid, when he has fans supporting him? 

“Sometimes,” he says after a couple of long seconds of silence. He hates admitting it, he’s too proud for this. He fixes the curly excuse for a hair. “It would be nice to come home to someone. But people don’t see me, they see my public persona.”

“I know.” They’re both quiet for a bit, then Nick’s the first one to talk. “You’re so different to the Dan I see in the media.”

“Cause that’s Daniel Howell,” he says without even thinking. He imagines the trademark sign after it, the brand created by him and his label.

“I know, but like… You’re so soft here. That Dan is a jerk.”

Dan laughs. He knows Nick’s right, but it’s a subject he doesn’t like talking about more than necessary. And today it’s definitely not necessary. He puts his head in his hand and sighs, deciding to change the subject. “Why are you so far away?”

“You’re the one far from me, dude.”

He ignores him. “Also, why are you so painfully straight?”

Nick laughs. “You’d like to have this, wouldn’t you?” He points to his body. “I don’t blame you, I take good care of it.”

“You could take good care of me.”

“Gross.”

“Excuse me, my sexuality is not gross, thank you very much,” Dan says which makes both of them grin.

“What  _ is  _ your sexuality, dude? It’s been like 3 years and I still don’t know.”

“First of all, you can’t just ask someone that. Second of all, you can find out when you buy my song in two weeks.”

“Hey! I thought I was getting in for free.”

“Not a chance, mate.” Dan’s phone rings. He looks at the screen to see the caller ID and furrows his brows. “I gotta go, Gib is calling me.”

“Alright, I’ll text you later.”

“Okiedokie baby, I love you very much!” Dan says, then sends exaggerated kisses.

“I hate you.” Nick quickly hangs up before Dan can reply.

He closes the lid of his laptop while swiping to accept the call. “Hey, Dan, you alright?”

“Hi, Gib. What’s up?”

“Uh, listen, can you come in?”

“What, you mean right now?”

“Yeah.” It’s late afternoon, Dan planned on ordering Chinese and binging something on Netflix. This goes against his plan of doing nothing. “It’s urgent.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Cheers.”

 

An hour later Dan is standing in the lift. Gib’s office is on the 5th floor in an all-glass building in the middle of Marylebone. When he steps out of the lift, on the opposite side, he’s greeted by a view of high rises and more concrete. He hates that Gib’s office isn’t in Canary Wharf on the 50th floor where the view would be amazing.

“Daniel,” Jada says. She’s never liked him; Gib’s assistant is a very uptight woman, well-dressed and snobby, everything Dan isn’t. But, the feeling is mutual. She’s never been kind to him, barely had anything nice to say. “Gibson’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks,” he replies without any warmth in his voice.

Gib’s office is in the corner of the building, windows on both sides. The man himself is sitting in his genuine leather executive chair (which, Dan’s pretty sure cost more than the tiny hole he rented when he first moved to London). His face is red by default, but tonight it’s plain crimson. He has a phone in his hand, another by his ear supported by his shoulder, while he’s furiously typing on his laptop one handed.

“Yeah, I know he’s busy, but it’s Daniel Howell, for fuck’s sake.” When he sees Dan in his office, he waves a hand in the direction of the sofa in the other corner. “Any jerk should be happy to work with him.” Dan furrows his brows as he sits. He doesn’t know what’s going on, or why this couldn’t wait. “Yeah, tell him he can suck my dick.” He throws the phone on the table with so much force Dan’s sure the glass desk is about to shatter.

“What’s up?”

With a deep sigh, Gib stands up and walks to the window. He leans against it, deep in thought. Dan quietly waits for him to say something, anything.

When he does, it’s not a thing Dan’s ever expected to hear. “The director quit.”

“What?” At first, he thinks he heard it wrong. The office is eerily quiet, only white noise is left.

“For your music video. He quit.”

Dan slowly stands up, trying to process it “But, he has a binding contract, doesn’t he?”

“Technically, no. He had us put in a clause stating that in the event for any unplanned event, he’s allowed to quit.”

“And what’s the ‘unplanned event’?”

Gib turns towards him. He waits for a few seconds, before answering. “A wedding.”

There are a lot of things that go through Dan’s head at that moment. Anger burns his insides, the beginning of rage rushing through his veins. “What the fuck?” Dan throws his arms in the air. “That’s the worst bullshit I’ve heard. He quit because one of his mates is getting married?”

Dan’s blood is already boiling, but he could cool down if he wanted to. However, what Gib says next just makes it worse, it’s like pouring gasoline onto a bonfire. “No, he’ll be the photographer.”

“What, just because he’s someone now, he thinks he can ditch me?” Dan laughs bitterly.

Gib takes a couple steps towards him. “Trust me, people don’t quit on me.”

He’s worked with Gib for a couple of years now, so he knows when the man is hiding something. “What else?”

Gib takes a deep breath. “Linwood said you’re horrible to work with.” Dan clenches his teeth, trying to keep himself calm. “He said you’re demanding and rude. He said he only worked with you because you’re popular, but otherwise, your music is shit.”

“What the fuck!” Dan shouts, but he’s already storming out of his office, straight towards the lift. Gib runs after him, talking to him, but he can’t hear anything. He presses the button and the lift is there within the next second which is highly unusual. The door closes before Gib can catch up and he’s already going down.

18-22 Lansing Road has multiple music execs working there, also several agencies managing the world’s brightest and most famous. It truly is one of the hot spots right now in London for entertainment. Getting in and out unnoticed is hard, considering the tens of paparazzi, swarming the front entrance.

When Dan gets out of the lift in the foyer, through the opaque windows he can already see them with their cameras and telephoto lenses. He should get back in the lift and go down to the basement to wait for an Uber.

But also, no one can call Dan Howell horrible. No one can call his music shit.

Even the security guard manning the door tries to stop him, but he’s dead set on doing this. That one sentence clouds his judgement; it’s not him doing this, it’s his anger.

“Daniel, Daniel!” They shout as Dan opens the door. Flashes go off, but Dan’s seen it enough times to be used to it. After that, the questions come one after the other, voices melting together and phones are shoved in his face. “When is the new album out? Why did you and Maia Milton break up? Who are you dating now?”

He ignores all of them; instead, he grabs the wrist of one the paps holding a phone and starts talking. “Neil Linwood wouldn’t have won an Oscar if it wasn’t for me. He got to direct  _ Lovebox _ because of me. He wants to talk shit about me? Fine, be it. But also, he was late all five days of shooting _ Paradise,  _ he didn’t respect any of my choices. Also, he’s a big ol’ homophobe, so be careful who you chose as a director.” He starts walking away before remembering something. “Oh, one more thing. He called me a ‘fag’, but had no problem with me sucking him off in the broom closet. Also, he has a small dick.”

Questions are still being thrown at him as he pushes through the crowd. Once he reaches the side of the road, he just manages to hail a cab before the paps could eat him alive. He barks his address at the cabbie and he starts driving him home.

_ What a fucking disaster,  _ he thinks. He takes deep breaths to calm himself. It sucks. It fucking sucks. Despite everything, he was looking forward to making this video. It’s a song he’s been working on for a long time and he was really excited to finally see the video come to life.

They go through the evening traffic with a lot of grumping from the cabbie, but at least Dan has time to calm down. He knows he shouldn’t have said anything. ‘It’s not good publicity,” his PR manager would (and will) say. He was on record, and at least 20 phones recorded it. The question isn’t if it will get out, but rather who will be the first to publish it.

Once they’re away from the craziness, he realises what he’s said. It’s… pretty bad, to say the least. He’s not only facing a defamation lawsuit, but he also outed himself and went on to admit he actually gave a blowjob to Linwood. Great. Just fucking great. Talk about mess.

He’s actually, for once, worried to check his phone. He’s pretty sure there are messages there waiting for him from Gib. But maybe, he just needs to suck it up and see.

The screen of his phone blinds him for a second. He indeed sees messages (seven) from Gib, and missed calls (two). There are also messages (three) from his PR manager, and even a voicemail from her (one; which he will never listen to, but will watch the icon until the end of time because it’ll never disappear). But most surprisingly, he also sees a message from Roxy Da Costa. How and why the world’s highest paid top model not only talks to him, but is also best friends with him is a mystery, but he loves her a lot.

**roxy ✌** ⚣ **♑ (20:16)**

_ dude theres gon b a party at mine tonight w/ guys and girls u can snog _

**roxy ✌** ⚣ **♑ (20:16)**

_ wnna come? _

Dan thinks for a second. He doesn’t really like parties like everyone imagines he does but the sound of alcohol he doesn’t have to pay for (even though he can afford it) sounds more than tempting. Also, the promise of snoggable people.

So, he tells the driver the new address. He says something very quietly but angrily; Dan just hands him two £20 notes and he immediately shuts up and without anything to say, he takes him to the other place.


	2. Chapter 2

Roxy Da Costa lives The Life. Different parties every weekend, often in different countries. She buys Cristal Champagnes by the bottle and doesn’t care how much of it she spills on the, also very expensive, rug. But, she’s 2018’s Naomi Campbell, she’s booked for the next two years. And she’s the most in-demand model for a reason.

“Danny!” She squeals then she gives him a hug. She’s wearing a black glittery dress, the left arm tucked back into the top, as usual, her long brown hair flowing. Dance music is blasting from speakers all around them. “I’m so glad you came,” she says, her Portuguese accent still coming out, even after these years she’s spent in London.

Her olive skin is glowing underneath the spotlights of her luxurious Mayfair penthouse. “You promised me things.”

“You never say hi.” She leans in, turning her head so Dan can give a peck on her cheek. When he does, she grins. She’s already tipsy which isn’t a bad thing. “Drinks are in the kitchen, snoggable people all around the flat.”

Dan looks around, immediately recognising famous faces from front pages, film posters and album covers. He sees people he’s worked with before, people he’s fucked before and people that still leave him flabbergasted because ‘Oh my god, it’s them, they’re so famous!’ He also sees some of his friends from the industry.

As he goes into the kitchen, he says hi to singers from the same label. They don’t like him, but that’s okay. After a while, he got used to the fact that not everyone will like him. It’s mostly because of his unbroken hit record, never leaving room for anyone to shine.

“Whatcha drinking?” Olly Murs asks him.

“Uh... What’s the quickest way to get drunk?”

Olly drunkenly grins at him. “Well, mix a couple of liquors together, you’ve got a good mix. Also, alcohol poisoning.”

“Just give me two vodka shots then.” He’s just going to hide all his anger and misery underneath all the alcohol.

As it turns out, for Olly, a shot is the size of a red cup, but thankfully, he only gives him one. As Dan puts it to his mouth, Olly starts chanting, “We like to drink with Dan,” here others around them join in, shouting as well, “cos Dan is our mate,” he starts downing his drink, trying to keep up with chanting, “and when we drink with Dan,” more people join in and it gets loud, “he takes it down in 8… 7… 6…” Then loud cheering as Dan throws the empty cup at Harry Styles’ chest.

“Harry!” Dan shouts over the crowd of drunk people when he sees his fluffy brown hair. His hair never looks that good and that makes him sad. “You’re here!”

“I am, yeah.” He gives him a half-armed hug. “That was some intensive downing, mate.”

“I’m gonna regret it in the morning.”

“You’re gonna regret it in 5 minutes.”

“Probably.” But he grabs yet another red cup of vodka. “I haven’t seen you in ages, wanna chat?”

They say hi to celebrities and stars brighter than the sun on their way to the roof garden. Some stop them to ask Dan about his new music while completely ignoring Harry. It still shocks Dan, that a boy from Wokingham, who grew up in a council house, can be more famous than a former member of One Direction.

They sit on a bench inside Roxy’s conservatory. They can just about see the evening lights of London above the roofs of other buildings. As they drink their alcohol quietly, Dan eavesdrops in on other people’s conversations, exchanging worthless gossip. 

The world turns into a happy place. He's already forgotten about the director or the paparazzi or his agent or anyone freaking out. Instead, he’s glad to enjoy the buzz of alcohol running through his bloodstream, warming his veins. It’s starting to make his brain feel foggy and also cloud his rationality filter.

He keeps drinking the alcohol in silence, next to Harry. He wants to talk to him, he really does. It’s been a while since they got to talk; but for now, he’s just happy to sit next to Harry for a while in silence. 

“Oh, babies!” Roxy says as she sits between them. “Can I get a photo with my babies?”

Dan puts on his showbiz smile as he presses against her, drunk, but still careful not to put pressure on her left shoulder. Harry gets in there as well, putting his arm around Roxy which means his fingers end up on Dan’s neck. He’s not sure if it’s just an instinct or if he does it on purpose, but Dan doesn’t really mind. Maybe Harry Styles will be one of those snoggable people. 

After the picture is taken, Roxy walks away, already posting it on her Instagram. He would love to catch up with her, but she’s busy with entertaining and being drunk.

“How have you been?” Harry asks.

“Good, good, uhh... Yeah.”

“Dan.”

As it seems like, even drunk, Harry can see through his bullshit. But Dan has no desire to talk or even  _ think  _ about the everything that happened today. “I need to get very drunk right now,” he mumbles to himself then downs the rest of his drink.

After that, events seem to speed up and slow down at the same time. He gets another drink or maybe three, he’s not really sure and he doesn’t exactly care. There may be some bodyshots involved, but he’s beyond wasted to know or care who it is. He just wants to have a good time and he does exactly that.

 

When he wakes, it’s to the sound of someone throwing up. He turns to his other side, only to be greeted by a throbbing headache, the stench of alcohol and a half-naked Harry Styles. Also, he’s in bed, but it’s not his own bed.

He sits up so suddenly it makes him feel more lightheaded. He has to swallow so he doesn’t paint the walls with his food from yesterday. Then he realises just how hangover he is.

“What the fuck?” he says to himself as he pushes the duvet out of his way. He’s not wearing his jeans or T-shirt and the boxers he has on are  _ definitely _ not his. He tries to look around for his own underwear because he’s not entirely comfortable with being in a stranger’s. Turning his head makes him feel dizzy though. “Oh god,” he groans.

He can handle alcohol, but this was too much, even for him. Sitting upright makes him feel awful, but lying down is not good either. He doesn’t know what, if anything, happened with Harry, but by the looks of it… He’s not sure if he wants to know, but he can’t really make a run for it.

“Come back,” Harry mumbles, opening his arms. “Need a snuggle.”

“Has anything happened?”

“Snuggle.” The next moment, he’s dragged down. His head falls into the very soft pillows and the duvet is back on him. Then, Harry puts his arm around him, spooning him from behind. He puts his nose against Dan’s neck who can’t help but melt into his touch. Maybe a cuddle with Harry Styles is the best way to cure a hangover.

 

As it turns out, it’s not. When he wakes, the Sun is burning his face and he’s alone. He feels even worse now. A dull buzzing in his ears has joined his headache, and it feels like his stomach is doing flips. 

He tries to sit up but it just makes him want to die. He turns his head to look around the room: apparently, he’s still in Roxy’s flat judging by the interior design and skyline. On the other side, on the bedside table is a glass of water and a packet of what seems like ibuprofen along with a note. Dan reaches for it (thankfully that doesn’t kill him that much) and the note reads:  _ hopefully this’ll make you feel better. H xxx _

And that reminds him. He throws the duvet off of his body, because despite his drunken mind he still remembers he’s not wearing his own boxers. Could it be Harry’s? Everything points to that. He might have had a one night stand with Harry Styles while they were obviously very drunk.

Which brings him to realise why he was drinking in the first place. He needs to do some damage control, but he decides to start with the lesser of two evils.

He takes the pill and drinks all of the water. Even the placebo effect seems to make his headache subside, so that’s a start. He reaches for his phone; there are about 17 thousand missed calls and texts from Gib, his PR manager, Jada. His friends texted him congratulating on the awesome song.

He furrows his brows. What song?

“Oh shit,” he says out loud when he realises what that means.

He ignores the messages and missed calls and opens Twitter instead. He refreshes his feed and sees the several news articles about his new song. Without clicking on any, he reads the headlines. 

_ ‘Damn Daniel! Back at it again with the Dan-hop.’ _

_ ‘Daniel Howell shines brilliantly with his newest song.’ _

‘ _ Daniel Howell is back after a year of no new music!” _

_ ‘ _ Diss Track _ is the song we’ve been waiting for.’ _

_ ‘Why Daniel Howell’s  _ Diss Track  _ is the ultimate millennial anthem.’ _

_ ‘27 reactions that perfectly sum up Daniel Howell’s  _ Diss Track  _ and Dan-hop in general!” _

“Oh, fuck my ass,” he says when he reads more.

‘ _ Did Daniel Howell just come out?’ _

_ ‘You will not believe what happened between Daniel Howell and Neil Linwood!’ _

_ ‘Daniel Howell’s illicit affair with director Neil Linwood.’ _

He’s about to click on the last one, when he sees Gib’s name on the screen. He picks up, shitting himself already. He knows Gib is mad at him.

“Dan.” That’s all he says and Dan is a kid again who broke a mug and his parents are mad at him.

“I didn’t think, Gib. I was really pissed at him.”

“You and your fucking mouth.”

“I didn’t think, I swear.

Gib sighs. Dan can imagine his crimson red face and his disapproving look. “What’s done is done, we tried to control it.”

Finally, Dan puts two and two together. “You leaked my song.” It’s not a question, but the statement has accusatory undertones. 

“We had to. The story was blowing up as gossip sites posted their own audio. 18. That’s how many people recorded it.”

“Jesus bloody Christ.” Dan rubs his face. He’s fucked up big time. “So what? You released my song to distract them?”

“Yeah. People are discussing that, not your coming out or Linwood.”

Dan doesn’t reply. It’s not ideal, but he knows he’s been living in a glass closet for the past couple of years. Earlier in his career, he protected his personal life. When his music blew up and became something he’s never expected to achieve, his fans became… obsessed. Suddenly, the fans were everywhere, invading every aspect of his life. He didn’t mind all of it, he’s here because of them, but some parts were infuriating.

His label and management also told him to hide his true self because they knew Dan would be very popular, but he’d lose a great percentage of the market if he was out and proud. The decision was made and while it wasn’t easy to accept, Dan was told it was necessary. 

Once he became the hottest selling artist in the UK, Dan let them see his true self bit by bit and although he’s never admitted to liking boys (or anyone for that matter), the fans know. Dan knows they know but he’s okay with that. And even his management likes the strategy, because it gets him a good buzz and that’s exactly what they need. ‘Always tease, but never confirm,’ Gib has said many times.

It’s really not surprising then that they’re talking more about the song rather than his supposed coming out. At this point, it’s not really news for them; it’s an open secret meaning it’s on all the gossip sites, but not Wikipedia.

“Dan, you there?”

He shakes his head to clear it, but that makes him dizzier. Zoning out is not an option right now. He focuses on Gib’s loud breathing. “Yeah, sorry. What now?”

“Well, you’ll tweet something about the song being available, but don’t really mention the leaking. Do not bring up Linwood’s name. If you do, I’ll kill you.”

“You’d be unemployed and broke.”

“Not a chance, mate. Don’t reply to tweets but like a few. Then come into the office.” Dan groans. There’s only so much his still drunk head can deal with. “Fine, tomorrow then.”

“Cheers.”

Dan hangs up before Gib can tell him to do something else.


	3. Chapter 3

He goes back to sleep. The world is shouting at him to do stuff, but he just can’t be arsed. He should be up doing stuff,  _ dealing  _ with stuff, but it’s just not happening. He doesn’t know where Roxy is, but he’s pretty sure he’s hogging her bed. And at this point, he doesn’t care.

When he wakes up, his head feels clearer. He can still feel the remnants of the alcohol buzzing through his veins, though his stomach is calmer now. He takes his phone from under the pillow. He squints, waiting for the backlight to blind him, but it doesn’t come.

“Fucking great!” he says with a sigh.

He hears shuffling then the next second the door bursts open. “The princess is awake!” Roxy shouts, already (or still?) tipsy. She jumps into the bed next to Dan, and another model joins, equally gorgeous. Dan doesn’t know her so she must be one of Roxy’s obscure friends. “Dude, you can sleep.”

“Urgh, leave me be!” Dan pulls the duvet over his head, but it’s quickly yanked away. “Hey!”

“Spill the tea, hon.” 

Roxy puts her head on Dan’s tummy and the other girl lays next to Roxy who starts playing with her hair.

He feels suffocated. Everything starts coming back: the paparazzi, the song, the coming out. Dan’s face falls as he realises he’s still wearing stranger-possibly-Harry’s boxers. He has a lot of shit to deal with.

“There’s no tea,  _ hon,”  _ he says it with more edge he intends to. 

“There is tea!” She twists her neck to look at him. There’s a smirk on her lips which means she knows something. “You better tell me or I’ll have to fill you in, but I’m  _ obviously  _ missing some details.”

Dan sighs. Sometimes he really hates Roxy. He hates how pushy she is, he hates how much she knows him and how much he cares about her. “I had a couple of drinks with Harry and when I woke up, I was here. That’s all.”

“Hmmm, except for the fact that you stumbled out of the bathroom, half naked, followed by some dude.”

“What?”

“Oh, also, you almost dropped a mango from the roof, played strip poker with Ella Eyre and you lost, and you ended up singing  _ Shape of You _ . Which, let me tell you, sounded nothing like Ed’s.”

“No, go back.” He tries to sit up, but Roxy doesn’t move.

“Well, I know about those, but who was that guy? You clearly did do the do.”

Dan covers his eyes. He had sex with a random person? He’s almost worried to ask, but he has to. “Was it Harry?”

Roxy laughs. “No, you dimwit. Harry was crying on Dua’s shoulder, like literally crying. I don’t know what about. I wonder if he’s…”

“I don’t give a toss about Harry!” This time he does sit up, knocking Roxy and the other girl away. He feels weird. That’s why he doesn’t go to parties, because he does stupid shit. He should’ve gone home. Better yet, he should’ve stayed home in the first place. Then none of this would’ve happened. “Who was that guy?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen him.”

He gives her a look. “It was your party.”

“But that doesn’t mean I know everyone. I don’t know who invited Olly Murs but it wasn’t me.”

Dan’s heard enough. He needs to go home, have an hour-long shower and go to bed, again. He needs this day to end. He still hasn’t tweeted, his phone is off, so he imagines Gib to be freaking out right now, thinking Dan’s avoiding him.

Which is the case, but that’s not important. 

“I’m gonna go home.”

Roxy pouts. “You always leave and never ask how I am.”

Dan’s hit with guilt. He knows that’s true. He’s usually so caught up in his own shit that he never asks Roxy. He should. He loves her and he misses her, misses those 2 am chats, wrapped up in the same blanket. “I know babe, but I gotta deal with this. You read Twitter, right?” She nods. “I’ll call you later, yeah? We can go out for food at some point.”

He deliberately doesn’t say next week. Shooting is scheduled to start in the next couple of days, with or without a director, so he doesn’t want to get her hopes up. But she still smiles at him, so he knows it’s all good.

 

Roxy calls him an Uber and half an hour later, he’s at home. He dumps his stuff by the front door and heads straight into the ensuite.

Despite being rich, despite having lived here for the past year, his flat is empty. He just can’t be bothered to decorate it. He’s either in a studio or on tour. He has a nice sofa, a shaggy rug and a TV that covers half the wall. In the bedroom, he has a very comfortable bed, a cosy duvet and a monochrome duvet set. He keeps telling himself he doesn’t need anything else. He can afford takeout or ordering groceries from Tesco. He doesn’t need fancy paintings and orchids. He wouldn’t be able to keep them alive, anyway.

But, it’s empty. It doesn’t feel like a home. It’s just a hotel room, by all means. He doesn’t even clean it, he has people doing that. It’s his, but it isn’t.

Maybe that’s the problem with his life, with his music. He loves his music, he only releases what he thinks it’s the best. But it’s not his. It’s Daniel Howell’s, not Dan’s. He hates the lack of creative control over them. Most of his songs are heavily edited to shape the market, to make as much money as possible. In the end, he still has the final say over them but only if the label approved all the possible versions.

He thinks about that while he’s in the shower. After undressing, he threw the stranger’s boxers out. He’s already worn them longer than necessary. He couldn’t find his own, so it was either going commando or wearing those. He didn’t want the chafing of skinny jeans and he figured the boxers belonged to the person he supposedly had sex with, so it couldn’t get more intimate.

When he’s finished, he goes into the kitchen, where his phone is charging. He can’t be bothered to get dressed, so he stands there for ten minutes as he orders food, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

When that’s done, he opens Twitter with a sigh. He looks at his mentions, reading a few from his mutuals, praising his song. Then he likes a couple of fan tweets, trying to keep it neutral. He usually has a hard time composing a tweet, but this time it seems impossible. He types, deletes, types and deletes. Finally, he settles on something super general that feels fake.

_ diss track is out now! go give it some love, worked very hard on it! find the audio version here  _ [ _ https://youtu.be/xACdTzmyaQI _ ](https://youtu.be/xACdTzmyaQI) _ music vid coming soon! _

He presses send. Within seconds, the tweet starts gaining likes and retweets. He reads a couple of the replies, because he wants to know what fans think.

@dant-rash:  _ the song is lit af _

@dann1elhow3ll  _ i’ve been bopping to this since it came out _

@danyultherat  _ Finally some good music for us thristy bitches!! _

He smiles to himself. People seem to like the song and that’s all that matters. It’s a separate thing that Dan’s life seems to be falling apart.

 

After he eats, he goes to bed. He’s sure he’s slept more in the past 24 hours than humanly possible or necessary, but he needs to be away from the drama. Sure, it’s drama he caused, but still.

Having gone to bed at 8 means he wakes up at 5 am. He’s feeling weirdly energised and hopeful, so that’s a good start. He’s not usually up this early, unless he has a flight to catch, and he’s definitely not this chirpy in the morning.

He reaches for his phone on the bedside table. He quickly reads through his messages; thankfully there’s none from his management yet. He ignores Roxy’s about his supposed one-night stand and all the others from his friends in the industry. There’s also a message from Harry, but when he sees a new message from Nick pop up, he ignores Harry’s too.

**Nick (5:07)**

_ dude the song’s great! really proud of you _

**Nick (5:07)**

_ and yes I did buy it _

**Nick** **(5:08)**

_ so enjoy my money bitch _

Dan smiles to himself. He loves Nick, he really does. He’s the kind of friend he wishes he had in school.

**Dan (5:08)**

_ thanks bby it means a lot _

**Dan (5:08)**

_ you awake? can we facetime? _

He hits send. Within seconds, he sees the three bubbles, but he doesn’t even wait for Nick’s reply.

“Dan?” His ever so slightly worried voice is such a nice thing to hear in the morning. “You okay? What time is it?”

“Uh…” Dan pauses. He’s pretty sure he’s about to get told off for various reasons, so he takes his time. The first (and only) thing he notices is that Nick’s in bed and he has no T-shirt on. “Is this a bad time? I can call you back, I don’t mind, although I think it’s pretty late there,” he rambles as his face gets redder and redder. It’s stupid. He’s stupid.

“Dan, don’t.” Nick laughs. “I have a bit of cold that’s why I’m in bed.”

“Oh.” Yeah, he definitely feels stupid. “Still, enjoy Netflix and we can…”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me! You called for a reason, what’s up?”

He doesn’t even know where to begin. He’s pretty sure Nick’s aware of the shitstorm that is Dan’s life currently, but he appreciates the fact that Nick doesn’t push him. “Can you just talk? Tell me about your day while I gather my thoughts.”

“Okay,” Nick says sceptically, but he continues. 

He talks about the lunch date he had with what’s her face (Dan should really learn her name, their relationship seems serious), about the mysterious text Joe left him about cheese and the song he wrote. Dan’s trying to pay attention, but it’s hard. 

His head is full of thoughts, but they’re all blobs, floating around. He thinks about the stranger’s underwear in his bin, the headlines he saw on Twitter, the meaningless accusations. He knows he shouldn’t care about whatever the media says because it’s most likely not true and they make up stories for the views, but they do get into his heart. Sure, he was the catalyst of it; if he kept his mouth shut, everything would’ve been fine.

“... so the elephant was climbing on the roof wearing a purple tutu.”

Dan furrows his brows. Maybe the cold medicine made Nick hallucinate things. “What?”

Nick smiles at him, but it’s not a mocking smile. It’s sweet, it’s gentle, but it’s also full of worry and compassion. “You weren’t paying attention.”

“Sorry, boo.” Dan stretches in bed, his phone promptly knocking into the headboard of his bed.”

“How are you, Dan?”

He shrugs. “You saw it. It’s a big fucking mess.”

“That’s Daniel Howell. I’m asking the dorky Dan.”

The truth is, this Dan, the real Dan, hasn’t had time to catch up. He’s still miles behind, picking up Daniel Howell’s dirty laundry and misspoken words. He’s somewhere far, stressing over the drama. “He’s been better. He would like a twelve-week holiday on Bora Bora, away from Daniel.” Nick doesn’t answer, just keeps smiling. He loves Nick, but he hates him: he forces him to speak his mind, to face whatever’s hiding in his brain and his heart. “I don’t know, Nick. On one hand, I was fucking hurt so that kind of justifies it, but on the other…” He doesn’t know what to say. Saying what he said was bad, but not for Linwood, but for himself. He got himself into a hole with no ladder or rope.

He didn’t imagine coming out like that, shouting it into the face of paparazzi. He doesn’t know how or when (or if, at all) that would’ve happened, but not like this. It almost felt like a broken and desperate man’s last solace, who was trying to cling onto the last bit of his fame. But he was angry, he was hurt so he didn’t think.

“Dan?” Nick’s soft voice seems to echo in the bedroom.

“I feel so fucking stupid.” Dan can’t stop the tears. This isn’t his first time crying in front of Nick, and definitely not the last one. “I hate being famous, it’s against everything that’s truly me. The stupid Daniel you keep referring to.” A fat teardrop falls onto his phone’s screen. He wipes it with the corner of his duvet, but it still makes the screen blurry. “I just wanna make music I like and not care about all this publicity and all the other stuff. I hate the fact I have to wear a façade when I’m out there and that I disappear behind that. I just want to stay inside, write songs that are truly special to me and not worry about whether it’ll sell or not. Write songs I want to write, not type out lyrics my label tells me. I wanna be that Dan you so eagerly want to talk to, but every time I have to be Daniel Howell, that Dan weakens inside.”

Nick doesn’t reply at first. He’s just staring at Dan through the camera. Dan can’t even look back at him. Suddenly, he feels ashamed. He should be happy with his career. It’s what he wants to do, it’s what he’s always wanted to do. He makes music. Others listen to it and like it. He should be happy. 

There are people who have it worse, he knows. People who struggle to make ends meet, who are stuck in a futureless job, people who work a lot of hours for little money. He’s lucky, extremely so. He does something he loves. He should be grateful.

But, this isn’t really him. The autotune, the parties, the celebrity status. People watching his every step, analysing it, reading more into it than it really is. Daniel Howell is a fake person created by the industry for the industry.

He knows he has to suck it up and forget about it. His meds and alcohol don’t really mix, so that’s why he’s feeling down. It’ll pass, he keeps reminding himself. He needs to just find his way back to making music he likes while satisfying the needs of his producers and management team. He knows things will be better.

“I hate to see you hurting,” Nick says finally, the obvious worry in his voice.

Dan wipes his tears. He’ll be fine. He’ll always be fine. “Yeah, well… I have a music video to make, that’ll help me focus on something else.”

“Any luck finding a director?”

Dan shakes his head. “I’m not really sure. Gib told me to go into the office today.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping? You never said the time.”

“Uh, it’s like 5.”

“Dan! Go to sleep, you dummy.”

Dan rolls his eyes. He’s glad Nick isn’t pressuring him to talk about it. He isn’t sure there’s anything left to say. He appreciates his thoughtfulness, though. 

“But I never see you anymore.”

“We talked two days ago.” Dan scoffs; he needs his Nick time. “Fine, call me in the evening. I’ll spend the whole day in bed anyway.”

Dan grins at him. But then Nick starts coughing and it’s Dan’s turn to be worried. Almost choking, Nick says goodbye saying he needs to get some water. He decides to send him a quick message. 

**Dan (5:31)**

_ have some medicine and drink tea! sleep tight don’t let the bedbugs bite xxx _

He sets his phone on the bedside table. It’s not completely dark, but the Sun isn’t rising yet. He’s sitting in bed, staring into the dark abyss that is his bedroom. Unsure of his life, unsure of his career. That neverending, nagging voice in his head keeps talking, questioning everything. 

He hates being alone. He hates the fact that he can’t tolerate about 95% of the people. They all want him for one thing. Not the Dan from Wokingham who wins about every race in Mario Kart. Not the Dan who gets passionate about an obscure film every once in a while and goes on a rant about it. Not the Dan who feels alone and left out despite having an infinite number of fans all over the world. They want the Daniel Howell, the popular artist, the musician who’s had several number one hits all over the world, the best selling act. They want the persona, but not the person.

He needs to exorcise his demons and get back into that Daniel Howell mindset. He needs to start pretending that everything’s okay again. He needs to ignore the events of the past couple of days, forget about what he said to the press, the fact that he had sex with someone and he doesn’t even know who it was, and most importantly, try and forget about thinking about the differences between Dan and Daniel.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s tempting for him to go back to sleep, but he needs to get better. He wants to. So he gets out of bed, makes himself a bowl of cereal. He doesn’t check his phone, that can wait. Instead, he watches silly vine compilations on YouTube making himself laugh.

After seeing the ‘I smell like beef’ vine three times in a row, he shuts his laptop and gets dressed. It’s still early to head into Gib’s office, so he decides to go for a short walk.

He watches the people hurry past him, bumping into him, talking on their phones or simply just looking at others sternly. This makes him feel normal, like he’s part of the morning rush. Even if for a minute, he feels like he’s no one.

However, that doesn’t last long. Teenagers recognise him. He doesn’t like it, but doesn’t mind either. It’s nice to feel appreciated once in a while, but he’s not one for human interaction and not when his judgement is so clearly clouded. 

Soon, however, it gets too much. Seeing a crowd, others recognise him as well, and soon it becomes never-ending. He feels overwhelmed, unable to breathe in the middle of the swarm. He says thank you and goodbye to all the people and thankfully manages to hail a cab quickly.

He knows there’s no point going home. He might as well just go and talk to Gib.

He still hasn’t checked his messages. There’s the message from Harry he’s ignoring. He never ignores him. They don’t talk very often, but he’s never ignored him. He likes and admires him, both as a musician and person and because he’s not like his other “friends” in the industry. Nick and Harry are his only musician friends who are not in it for Dan’s fame and popularity. He misses that, having friends because that’s the natural thing to do. He might be introverted, but he’s still human, he still gets lonely.

There are also messages from Roxy he’s ignoring. He doesn’t want to go into the whole thing because there is nothing to say. He can’t remember any of it, so he has no answers. He could ignore her questions and just ask about her day, but ignoring it altogether is just easier.

 

As usual, the main entrance is swarming with paparazzi, so Dan tells his driver to drive him down to the basement. Once he pays his fair and a bit more, he gets out and starts walking towards the lift. Of course, because he’s the unluckiest bastard in the world, Jada, Gib’s assistant is already there, waiting for the lift.

“Daniel,” she says, her tone as cold as ever.

“Jada.”

It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. He feels hate radiating from her, just pure old hatred. He’s never done anything to her, at least not to his knowledge, that would earn this treatment. If anything, she should be grateful. Dan brings in a lot of money which then paid for her expensive wardrobe, holidays in Seychelles. She even got a boob job a couple of years ago, all thanks to Dan.

“You got us in a big old mess. You and that awful, chatty mouth of yours.”

The lift arrives. He hates the fact that he has to get into the small metal box with her and spend a couple of minutes locked together. Knowing his luck, he’s pretty sure the lift will break.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He presses the button to the 5th floor.

She has the audacity to give him an outraged look. “You’re nothing but a snotty teenager who thinks he’s got everything just because your music is merely acceptable. You have a horrible attitude and no wonder Neil quit.”

Dan stares at the metal doors, trying to process what Jada said. He knows she’s not right. She only knows Daniel, not Dan. She doesn’t know the whole truth, the real Dan who cried during a John Lewis advert, who sometimes can’t fall asleep at night because he feels pathetically lonely, who wants to make music that could fill that hole in his chest.

Could she be right though? Has something happened and turned him into this nasty person? If his grandma was still alive, she could tell him all the answers.

So when he replies, it’s the worst possible thing to say. “I’m 27, not a teenager.”

Jada stifles a laugh. Dan’s pretty sure he’s never heard her laugh but he imagines it to be harsh like a witch’s. “You know, that exactly proves my point.”

Before Dan could say an equally miserable answer and before Jada could drag him more and leave him to the vultures, they arrive at their destination. He practically runs out of the lift, straight into Gib’s office.

Gib is already there, on the phone as always. He’s always wearing the same clothes (dark blue jeans and a pale blue shirt) so Dan is pretty sure he never leaves his office. The encounter with Jada left him feeling awful, so it takes him a second to notice that someone is sitting on the sofa.

The man is not paying attention to him. His phone is in his hand while balancing a notepad on his knee, scribbling something. The man is gorgeous by any and every standard. His raven black quiff and the seemingly permanent smirk on his lips are simply divine. But the way he’s immersed in whatever he’s doing, not paying attention to anything or anyone, is the most attractive feature of his. It’s very rare that he gets such an immediate and intense attraction, but this time, he does. He wants to get to know this man, both his personality and every inch of his body. Dan’s pretty sure this man could take his mind off of things.

Gib notices Dan and he waves him to sit in a chair by his desk. He ends the call after that, and turns his attention to Dan.

“Jesus fucking Christ. It’s a big miss you got us into, kiddo.”

Dan rolls his eyes. This shit again. It’s like Jada and Gib are playing the same broken record over and over again. He didn’t sign up for this when making the deal with the label. “Yeah, yeah, I already got my lecture from Jada.”

“You know who that was?” Gib points at his phone as he takes a seat on the other side of the desk. “Linwood’s lawyer. He’s threatening a lawsuit if we don’t settle.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dan shrugs. Linwood is the last person he’s worried about right now. There are a lot of things on his mind, in particular, the person sitting on the sofa. “Who’s that guy?”

Gib ignores his question. “Or, you could make a public apology and this would all go away. That’s all Linwood is asking, you denying the allegations.

“Fuck no.” He’s willing to do a lot, but backtracking isn’t one of them. Everyone needs to know what a shit person Linwood is. “Who’s he?” Dan asks again.

Gib is still ignoring him. “Dan, I don’t think you see how serious this is.” Dan furrows his brows, confused. He sees it perfectly well. His reaction might not have been the best, but he said what he had to say. “You publicly humiliated a well-known and recognised director. You outed yourself and disappeared for the next day.”

“There are artists out there who are just, oh I don’t know, racists.” He tries to stay calm, but his blood is starting to boil. “They can continue to work but me, I’m the bad guy here? Just because I had the audacity to say that Linwood called me a fag? Give me some slack.” He can swallow a lot of criticism, but not when someone calls him that.

“You’re both wrong.” The man on the couch suddenly says. Dan whips his head around. He pushes his glasses up his nose, putting the notepad aside. “An apology would go a long way, but I don’t think it would be enough. Not apologising, however, would be catastrophic for your career.”

“So what do you suggest?” Gib asks.

“I still have no clue who he is,” Dan says to Gib.

“I’m Phil Lester, your  _ new  _ director,” he says coldly, not even looking at Dan. His name is vaguely familiar to him, like a name you see online, but can’t place it. “Public apology and a sit down with him.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Gib says.

“Fuck, no.”

“You wanted my input, well, there it is.”

“Except I didn’t want it,” Dan retorts quickly.

This time, Phil looks at Dan, his gaze equally cold. Dan feels thousands of knives in his body, all from a single look. It doesn’t help that the fire within Dan is still there and he’s about to jump on Phil. Not sure if he’s about to murder him or kiss him, but the same emotion fuels the fire. “No offence,  _ mate _ , but I don’t think you’re in the position to give an opinion.”

Dan scoffs and turns back towards Gib. “I don’t like him. I don’t  _ want  _ him,” he says, knowing well that Phil can hear him. It’s a lie, but for the sake of it, Dan has to say it. “Get me someone else.”

“There is no one else. No one is willing to work with you.”

Heavy silence. No one is saying anything and Dan really doesn’t want to be the first to break that silence. Gib is typing on his laptop, Phil is scribbling in his notepad and Dan? Dan is sulking.

So, it seems, the whole world is against him. Over the past couple of years, Dan’s gotten used to things working out. It isn’t the case of having the world at his feet, it isn’t the case of him expecting others to do the work for him. He knows and appreciates hard work; he worked in retail during his teenage years, so he knows.

But if Daniel says he wants to work with this and this person, he  _ will  _ work with them, mainly because he has Gib as his manager who gets shit done. There aren’t any nos, ifs or buts. Maybe he’s gotten used to the comfort of it, but now, things have changed. He isn’t ready to let anyone dictate what he’s supposed to do apart from his label. He can barely tolerate that as it is. Gib’s a go-getter and someone who isn’t willing to accept conditional offers. Gib should know better what Dan wants, but it seems, this isn’t a case of that.

“I have some ideas,” Dan says finally, turning towards Phil.

“Not interested.” He doesn’t even look up or at Dan.

“What do you mean not interested? I know what I want to see and you just have to make it. It’s  _ my  _ music video, after all.”

“The situation you’re in, I don’t think you can make demands.” He’s still not looking at Dan and it’s starting to piss him off. Also, Gib is not saying anything and he usually has a lot of input.

“Well, I don’t think I have to use you as my director.”

Phil laughs, it’s short and bitter. “Are you really that thick? There’s no one else, no one wants to work with you.”

Dan stands up with so much force, he knocks the chair over. He doesn’t bother picking it up. “I’m going home,” he says to Gib. “Let me know when you find someone else.”

“The shooting is starting today.”

“What?” He stares at him, completely baffled.

Gib sighs and pushes his laptop away a bit. “Damage control. The sooner it’s released, the sooner we can control the narrative.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Dan buries his head in his hands. Realising he has no other choice left he sighs and says, “Alright, fine.”

On a rare occasion like this, Gib smiles and it’s the most terrifying thing. “Go, use the meeting room, we’re going to start in a couple of hours.”

“You have my notes, right?” Phil asks Gib.

“Yeah, I’ll get everything done and we can start this afternoon.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do until then?” Dan doesn’t put ‘with him’ in the ask, but it’s heavily implied. And not in the right way. 

“Fine-tune all the details. I don’t know, just stop pestering me.”

Locked in a room with a guy he hates for a couple of hours while disagreeing and constantly arguing? What could go wrong?


	5. Chapter 5

The answer, not surprisingly, is everything. Within two minutes of closing the door of the meeting room, they’re already yelling. And it’s not nice. 

The room is not on fire yet, but it’s close to it. There’s nothing to break, apart from some wobbly chairs and a table, but Dan’s not fit enough to do so.

Being locked a room with the person who pisses you off, shouting nasty things back and forth, well, that does things to his head. There’s also that little voice in there, that voice of a thirsty and horny teenager, that keeps telling him to keep arguing with him, because it gets both their emotions boiling, which then might lead to… things.

“Oh my fucking God, why won’t you listen?” Dan yells. He knows he’ll lose his voice, but at the moment, he doesn’t care. They’re both standing, on opposite sides of the room shouting. Dan’s been trying to tell Phil some of his ideas, but Phil just doesn’t listen. He keeps saying his own thing and they get nowhere. “Oh my God, why don’t you hear me? You just following me with a fucking camera is fucking boring!”

“Because  _ you _ won’t listen to my ideas!”

“Because they’re shit!” Phil gestures with his hands as if he’s about to murder Dan. Which is fair enough, because Dan is feeling the same. “We  _ just  _ met, like five minutes ago, yet you feel like you can give me orders!”

Phil’s eyes go wide and he goes red. He’s unusually pale by default, but the redness starts beneath the collar of his blue shirt and soon his face is red. And it’s not the blushing type of red; Dan immediately recognises the anger behind it. “Five mini-- if you think… You know what, it doesn’t matter. We’re in this situation because someone said the same thing about your work.” Dan wants to shout at him, defending his artistry, but Phil continues quickly. “It’s either me or you’ll be the next Rick Astley and people will play your music as a joke. I’m your director, I think you need to start recognising that.”

“Oh fuck you, just because I have a vision and I don’t want none of your weird shit.”

“Or maybe the weird shit is  _ exactly  _ what you need. You’re in a deep hole, you’re gonna need me to get out of there.”

“Everyone,” Dan starts quietly, but it’s filled with rage, “everyone keeps telling me what I should write and release. I’ve had the idea for the music video for two years, now you come in, telling me it’s shit. Well, excuse me if I feel fucking attacked!” he yells that last sentence.

“If you don’t like it, why don’t you change the way things work?” This sentence shocks Dan. It’s so simple, but it’s a lot. And it’s something he can’t afford to focus on right now. “It’s not my fucking problem you’re so dissatisfied with it.”

“I don’t want your crazy, acid trip-like style!”

Phil grunts, running his hands through his quiff. Dan involuntarily licks his lips, then scolds himself internally for thirsting. “You don’t understand! I use the short films to…” Phil sighs and sits in one of the chairs. “It’s more than that.”

Dan takes a breath and neither of them says anything for a while. He’s feeling… agitated, for the lack of a better word. He knows the way he’s reacting to, well, everything, is a Daniel reaction. Daniel was hurt by the fact that the director dropped out, by Gib’s inability to find him a normal director. But, both Dan and Daniel were hurt when Linwood… called him  _ that. _ Dan took it to heart and now everything he’s doing when he’s outside of the comfort of his home is as Daniel. He hates it when his public persona takes over, but he can’t stop. It’s a fight or flight, kill or be killed reaction. 

“Alright,” Dan says after counting to three. They both need to ease up on the anger. “Do you have any videos so I can have an idea?”

Phil almost smiles before nodding. For a second, Dan forgets about the constant arguing, but then remembers he actually hates him and wants to murder him.

He gets his laptop and starts typing, then looks up at Dan. “Are you gonna sit down or what?”

Dan, suddenly feeling awkward, walks around the table and sits, not next to Phil, but leaving an empty seat between them. Probably better this way.

The thing is, he wants to like Phil, especially if they’re forced to work together. But when his music, his vision, his ideas are attacked, he can’t help but feel upset. He’s sure Phil knows what’s he’s doing, but so does Dan. When writing the single, he didn’t just write down the words or the music. He imagined the whole package: the melody, the rhymes, the video, even the announcement tweet. Now, they’re all out the window: the song was heavily edited and censored by the label, the tweet wasn’t what he wanted, it was a necessity, now Phil comes in, and tells him he isn’t making the video what Dan wants.

Phil’s single sentence fills his head: ‘If you don’t like it, why don’t you change it?’ If only it was that easy. He wants to go back to the way it was, when he was writing music he liked. When he didn’t need to worry about fans stalking him, when he could spend hours in a piano store writing music.

Phil queues a couple of videos, then presses play. The videos are… a lot, to say the least. It’s colourful, bouncy, and everything Dan isn’t. It’s too vivid, with too much going on. The editing is fast and all over the place. He doesn’t want that and especially not for one of the most important music videos of his career. He spent a year away from the craziness, working on music. His comeback video needs to happen like he imagined it: simple, clean and perfect; not an eclectic, rough-and-ready, weird… whatever it is that Phil does.

But, it gets him thinking. Everyone expects the usual style music video. His fans know what’s coming: well-thought-out, high production value, perfectionist video. No one would see this happening. The style isn’t his favourite, but he does see potential in it. And maybe, as hard as it is to admit this, but Phil’s right. Dan does need him and his weird style to get him out of the shit.

Dan pauses the video and he looks at Phil. “Right, I get what you mean.”

“I listened to your song,” Phil says, looking out the window. “Quite a few times to get an idea. It’s a good song. What I imagine is not just following you with a camera...”

Dan winces. “No offence, but that’s the shittiest idea.” 

“You don’t even let me finish!”

Dan rolls his eyes. “What if it was me just sitting in front of a camera, pretending to be a totally uncool YouTuber, but it had sketches of me in real life just embarrassing myself?”

There it is again, that cold stare again. Dan knows he should let him fully explain his idea, but then again, Dan knows what he wants.

“Yeah, that’s something… What I was trying to say...” Phil starts, but Dan’s phone rings.

He usually hates phone calls, but to get out of this conversation, he’s willing to do anything. So without checking the caller ID, he picks it up.

“Fucking finally.” Harry’s relieved voice is familiar in his ear, but for a second, Dan gets worried. There’s an issue (or two) he hasn’t been dealing with, instead, he’s been repressing it, shoving it under a mental carpet. He did wake up next to Harry Styles, cuddling him half-naked and there’s a real possibility they did some… stuff. “Nice way to ignore me.”

“Sorry, I just… I’ve been busy.” Dan looks at Phil, but he’s preoccupied with something on his laptop.

“Yeah, no shit. Good song, by the way.”

“Thanks, babe.” Dan calling his closest friends nicknames usually reserved for significant others isn’t unheard of. He doesn’t do it in public, but it’s not likely Phil will run straight to Daily Mail. “Sorry, I was meaning to get back to you.”

“I know. I just wanted to ask how you were doing.”

“I’m okay, I think. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Dan lowers his voice so Phil doesn’t hear it. He  _ could  _ leave the room, but he can’t be arsed. Besides, Phil seems to be fully invested in whatever he’s doing. “At Roxy’s party, what the fuck happened? I mean did we…”

Harry laughs. “No, Dan. I was pretty drunk, but I know nothing happened. You were snogging someone, then you disappeared, then you dragged me to bed for, I quote, cuddle time with my Harry Berry. Please never call me that again.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

“I did enjoy the cuddle time.”

Dan sighs. He wants to remember it, or the person he kissed. “Are you okay? Roxy said you were crying.”

“Yeah, I’m a drunk crier.”

Phil clears his throat. “Uh, sorry,” Dan tells Harry. “Gotta go, but I’ll call you later?”

“Yeah, don’t be a stranger. Don’t make this awkward.”

“That’s my middle name.”

“Love you, mate.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

He hangs up the phone, staring at it. He’s vaguely aware of Phil’s typing, but it sounds distant. Now, that he finally faced Harry, the question remains. He had a one night stand with someone in a bathroom at a party and he’s curious to find out who it was. 

“Okay, so here’s how it’s going to happen. It’s gonna be your idea, but I’ll make it the way I want it.”

“What?” Dan asks, not because he doesn’t understand what Phil’s saying, but rather because his mind is having a hard time catching up.

Phil sighs. It’s a defeated and tired one. “As I was saying…”

That moment, the door opens, and none other than Olly Murs walks in. He stares at Dan and Phil. “Am I in the wrong place?”

“Yeah?” Dan supplies, but it’s stupid. Olly Murs is not with Gib or anyone in this building.

“Oh. I swear it was this address!” he mumbles to himself as he leaves them behind.

“I’ll talk to Gib,” Phil says. His voice sounds odd. Not that Dan knows him. But he doesn’t sound like that confident filmmaker he met an hour ago. He sounds... Upset. “He’ll give you the details.”

Phil promptly packs up, leaving the stunned Dan behind. Dan slumps back against his chair. The last couple of days have been difficult and stressful. He needs a bath and a good cry, that’s for sure.

Out of guilt, he texts Roxy. He feels awful whenever he’s ignoring her.

**Dan (12:04)**

_ how are you babes? _

He stares out the window, thinking. Somewhere, his career derailed. It wasn’t a bad derailment because it got him there, but at what cost? His life is hollow and empty, the real person is faded. There’s just the image created by the industry left, an image he’s got to stick to.

He wants to get back to his roots. He wants to be that teenage boy who watched MTV. He admired the music, the videos, dreaming of having his own music there. Back then, back when he was writing music in a notepad and hiding it under his mattress, everything seemed so different. He was Dan, a nerdy teenage boy who loved music and loved writing music more than anything. Now, at 27, as Daniel Howell, he’s just a shell of who he used to be.

Maybe that’s what he needs. Sure,  _ Diss Track _ was supposed to be his big comeback, but that might be what he needs. A clean slate, a break from everything.

But, as sad it is, he can’t do that. He has a contract, a label that made his dreams come true and dedicated fans who support him. Should he trust his gut and start over or should he just swallow the bitter pill and continue as it, sad and miserable, but popular?


	6. Chapter 6

Dan doesn’t get a reply from Roxy right away, but he doesn’t even expect it. She’s probably off somewhere in the Pacific on a photoshoot. Plus, the way he’s been treating him, well, he doesn’t deserve her reply.

He takes a photo of the view, a photo he can later use to update his Instagram story. He checks twitter, liking a couple of tweets. He stalls. He feels weird around Phil, uneasy and a bit uncomfortable. It’s not because of who he is as a person, but because of the tension they have. At this point, Dan’s not sure if he’s attracted to Phil, or it’s the strain on the work-relationship they’re forced to have that’s giving him the strange feeling. Anyway, he’s going to avoid him for a bit longer..

After 15 minutes, when he deems it safe to venture out, he leaves the meeting room behind, heading straight into Gib’s office, who’s alone and looking like he’s been expecting Dan.

“All good?” he asks, but Dan’s pretty sure he knows it’s not ‘all good’.

“Yeah. He left?”

Gib nods. “You don’t need to be so hostile, you know. He’s here to help.”

“I know.” There’s silence between them. Dan knows what he should do, but he’s anxious to say it out loud. It’s for the sake of preserving his career, even if that might not be around for long. “Can you uh… Can you give me Linwood’s number?”

Gib smiles at him. He scribbles some numbers and something else on a post-it and gives it to Dan. “The address for the shooting.”

 

Dan gets an Uber to the address, which turns out to be an Airbnb. He spends the car ride thinking about stuff he will say, stuff he _needs_ to say.

He hates the fact that he has to apologise to a dickwad of a motherfucker. Dan knows that it’s something he needs to do to avoid a lawsuit and an even bigger scandal, but that doesn’t stop him from hating it.

After what seems like hours, they finally arrive in East London. It’s a nice street, with blocks of flats on one side and a park on the other. Dan looks at the post-it, and begins looking for the exact address.

He finds it quickly, but because Phil is waiting outside. He’s leaning against the railing of the stairs, looking sexy and irresistible in the afternoon sunshine. He’s completely unaware of Dan, who jumps behind a bus shelter, almost hiding. The old ladies give him a weird look, but otherwise ignore him.

Dan watches Phil type on his phone, occasionally smiling. There and then his attraction is undeniable. For some reason, this peculiar human being is unfazed by the fact he’s working with the one and only Daniel Howell. Opposites attract, after all, but Dan also feels like the reason they began arguing in the first place is because their mindset might be similar. They essentially want the same thing for the music video, right? Different wording, but same idea.

But there’s also something about Phil. He seems… familiar. Dan’s had a thought in the back of his mind since meeting Phil in Gib’s office, a thought that’s been lurking, a thought he’s been ignoring. He knows it’s impossible, but a small part of him keeps thinking they met before. Maybe it was an award ceremony, or maybe they bumped into each other at BBC or something. It’s not like Phil isn’t famous, he’s made several music videos for the most popular music acts. They could’ve met somewhere. But that small part keeps thinking that’s not the case. He’s convinced things were destined to turn out the way they did.

Eventually, Dan has to come out of hiding. He gets his phone out of his pocket and casually starts walking towards Phil. He’s not even doing anything on the bloody phone, he just needs to look inconspicuous.

“Finally,” Phil sighs when he spots Dan.

“Calm your tits, I’m here.” Now that Dan’s come to the realisation that he is, as weird it is, attracted to Phil on some level, he can’t help but tease him a bit.

“Come on,” he says.

He leads Dan up to the first floor, opening a door on the left. The place is a studio flat, but it’s nice. It has a lot of natural light and some plants here and there. Phil already has a tripod set up and there are a couple of other people walking around.

“Can I make a phone call quickly?”

Phil looks at the clock on his phone before nodding. Dan walks into the bathroom - the only room with a door. As he punches in the numbers of Linwood, his heart is in his throat. He presses call and puts the phone against his ear. The rings are like his worst nightmare. He hopes that Linwood picks it up, he wants to get this over with. He hides so he doesn’t have to worry about the judginess of the crew and because no matter how much he hates it, it’s between him and Linwood.

“Hello?” Dan’s anxiety goes through the roof when he hears Linwood’s voice. “Who’s this?”

“Hi, uh… Neil, this is Daniel Howell.”

“Oh,” that’s all Linwood says.

“I know this isn’t ideal or anything, and I would like to do this face to face, but I’d like to apologise.” Dan swallows his hatred towards Linwood. “I am sincerely sorry for everything I said.”

“Okay.” Dan frowns. That’s not the answer he was expecting. “I mean that doesn’t make the lawsuit go away, but you do you.”

“What the…”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact you _ruined_ my whole career.”

“And I think you’re forgetting the fact you called me a fag.”

“But see, I never did it in public. You gotta be smart about things, Daniel. This isn’t the playground, you can’t make shit disappear because you mumbled a sorry.”

“But I am!” Dan runs his fingers through his curls, tugging at them in frustration. “I am truly sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things. What else do you want?”

“Well let’s see. My wife left me, took the kids. My agent quit, I was dropped from a film as the director. Trust me, a lawsuit for you is just pennies, for me, it’s my whole career.”

This isn’t how it was supposed to go down. Dan wasn’t expecting full-on forgiveness, but he was expecting something. He doesn’t know what to do. Tears caused by frustration appear in his eyes, but he’s trying to hold it. “Public apology? Is that what you want?”

“Well, that’s a start.”

Dan clenches his fist. “Is Twitter fine or should I do it on BBC Breakfast?”

“Twitter will do. Maybe you could talk to one of your musician friends who wants to make a music video.”

He hangs up. Dan grunts loudly, slamming his fist against the tiled wall. Linwood is a certified douchebag, that’s sure.

 

Dan wanders out into the flat, still dazed from the conversation. He knows he should talk to his PR manager or Gib or anyone, but he hates the feeling of the sword of Damocles above him. So he types out a quick message.

_No matter how hurt you are, saying mean things is never acceptable. I would like to publicly apologise to Neil Linwood (@neil_linwood) and say he is an extremely talented director._

Dan presses tweet before he changes his mind. He sets his phone on airplane mode so he doesn’t have to deal with the shit that will most likely happen.

“Great!” Phil says with some annoyance in his voice. “Can we start?”

A makeup artist presses Dan into one of the chairs. She puts a bit of powder on him as he asks Phil. “So what are we doing?”

“Trust me, I’ve got this.”

“But you can say it, nonetheless.” Phil shrugs and turns away. “Why are you acting like this?” Dan sees the sound technician sharing a look with the makeup artist. They’re innocent bystanders, caught up in the middle of whatever this is. “Why do you shit on everything I say?”

Phil looks at him, shock clearly on his face. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“But I don’t!”

“I’ll tell you after we’re finished,” Phil says dismissively.

Dan shakes his head, getting powder in his hair. “Sit still,” the girl barks, clearly unimpressed by the fact she’s putting makeup on Daniel Howell’s face.

 

Shooting starts and it’s a mess. Dan and Phil are constantly arguing about every single thing, be it big or small. They argue about the position of the chair, about the background, and even the way Dan’s hair curls. (To which, he replies: “Oh fucking hell, I’ll just shave my head and we can make this music video next year when it regrows, how about that?”)

“Why do you have to pick a fight when I say something?!” Dan says, as he stands up and starts walking up and down. “Whatever I say or do isn’t good enough.”

“Because!” Phil replies so cleverly. Dan almost laughs it’s so ridiculous. He’s starting to think Phil’s only arguing with him for the sake of it. “Can we get this bloody music video done so I never have to talk to you again?”

“Fine!”

The thing is, Dan really wants to make things easier. He wants to finish this as much as Phil does. He doesn’t want to argue. He told himself he wouldn’t, that he would just go with the flow. But Phil is being a dick right now and Dan can’t help but match his tone.

There’s no script they’re sticking to, they’re just making up as they go. Usually, they end up on the same idea, but it all happens in a standoffish manner. Dan tells Phil his vision and Phil just barks at him, saying that’s not good, only to repeat the same thing, phrased differently. It’s making Dan frustrated, it’s making the crew frustrated.

Somehow, through some miracle, they manage to get the static shots done. It still takes hours, the two minutes of video. There isn’t a lot going on, Dan lip-syncing to his own song, but they have to restart it over and over again, because something always goes wrong. It’s either the computer behind him turning off, or the light flickering, so they have to start it all over again.

That’s something Dan can appreciate, though, his perfectionism. It gets annoying, but rationally Dan understands. Phil keeps bossing him around and the crew as well, which, again, pisses him off, but it also makes his attraction grow. He knows it’s not the nice, ‘oh I like you, let’s go out on a date’ kind of attraction, but rather, the ‘I fucking hate you, let’s make out because I despise you so much’ kind.

Then, Phil suddenly realises, it looks too fake, too manufactured. “Here, take it.” He gives Dan his sunglasses. “When it starts, try putting them on, but fail miserably.”

“Why?” Dan cringes.

“To make you more relatable.”

Dan does as he’s told. He hits himself in the face with the frame and it’s not even on purpose. It’s just who he is. Then, for the sake of continuity, they have to reshoot everything they did, but it’s smoother this time. Dan knows what he’s doing and Phil doesn’t say anything.

It’s good. He feels it’s good. He’s managed to get all the words right, which, given the tempo of the song is a challenge, but he hopes it’s usable.

“Okay, take five,” Phil says quietly as he gets the memory card to rewatch the raw footage on his laptop.

Dan needs some time alone. He knows he should watch it back as well, but he needs a bit of time away from the shooting, so he finds himself in the bathroom again. He sits on the edge of the bathtub. They have more things to shoot, but his brain is trying turning mushy.

He told himself he wouldn’t, but he checks his phone. It takes a couple of minutes for the texts and notifications to come in. He hears chatter on the other side of the door and he’s sure he hears his own name, but by the time he could go and listen, the screen of his phone is lighting up. He sees a couple messages from Gib, but he ignores those. Harry sent him a poop emoji. He laughs at that. Still no messages from Roxy though. He also ignores a message from Linwood, he has no energy to deal with him, either.

Out of sheer curiosity, he googles Phil. He goes to his Wikipedia page and scrolls through his filmography. He has a couple of short films and several music videos, all with accolades. There are also upcoming films listed there, with illustrious casts. Seems like his career is blowing up.

Dan then scrolls back up, reading through the rest of his wiki. Is it weird? Maybe. He could just ask Phil these things out himself, but he’s nosy. There’s nothing listed about his personal life apart from his early life and education and that’s the part Dan wants to know the most.

It’s stupid, really. There’s this person he keeps arguing with, who he doesn’t want to spend time with. But, at the same time, his heart keeps wandering. He’s not exactly sure which heart, though: his actual heart or his dick.

There’s a knock on the door. “We’d like to continue.” It’s not Phil, but the sound technician.

When he walks back out, the atmosphere is different. It’s cold and almost haunting, the previous tension has vanished. Phil is avoiding his gaze. “Uh, everything okay?”

“Huh?” Phil asks, dazed. “Yeah, sure, ready to continue?”

Somehow, filming the sketches are easier. Dan lets Phil direct him and Phil accepts whatever idea Dan has. He’s still distant though, not that they were close to begin with. But he has a certain apprehension now, something that Dan can’t put his finger on. It’s like something happened, while Dan was away. It’s like they found something but Dan is intentionally left out of the loop.

They film the short sketches in silent agreement. He says he’ll put an animated Nick Jonas when Dan says _‘The only reason you’ve got fans is you're another white guy / That people ship with Nick cause they think it's kawaii’_. Dan doesn’t have the energy to say he could probably get a clip from Nick that Phil could insert.

In the end, they’re finally done. It’s dark outside now, the Sun long gone. The members of the crew are yawning and quietly complaining they’re hungry, so Phil thanks them and lets them go. Dan awkwardly fumbles with his phone. The battery’s flat, so he’s unaware of the world.

“So that’s it?”

“Yep,” Phil says as he’s dismantling the tripod.

“Well, it was nice to work with you,” Dan offers, but they both know that’s a lie.

“Yep.”

Dan sighs and he’s about to leave, when he remembers. Phil still owes him an explanation. “Why are you being such a dick to me?”

Phil looks at Dan for a second, before turning away. “The fact that you even have to ask that proves that I’m not the dick here.”

“I have no idea, honest to God.”

Phil turns towards Dan again, but this time, he stays like that. He’s giving him a cold, hard stare and it’s making him feel weird. “Oh my fucking...!” Phil yells as he gets frustrated with the tripod. Dan, however, knows it’s aimed at him.

“I’m just trying to understand, Jesus!” Dan can’t help but raise his voice as well.

“In what language do you want me to say this so you will actually hear what a sane human being says?”

“Are you shitting me?

”You disrespect everything I say,” Phil shouts. “You’re constantly talking shit.” Dan should feel guilty or at least upset, but in fact, what he’s feeling is quite the opposite. “The way you treat people is horrendous. Then, to top it off, you don’t even…”

He does it. He does something stupid, something thoughtless. He closes the two feet of distance between him and Phil, and before his brain has time to overanalyse things, he puts his hand on the back of Phil’s neck and pulls him forward.

It’s a heated kiss, filled with anger and passion. Dan wants to convince himself he did it to shut Phil up, but in reality, he just really wanted to kiss Phil.

“What the fuck?!” Phil shouts as he shoves Dan away. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I don’t know!” Dan grunts.

“What about your boyfriend you’re so clearly in love with?”

Dan furrows his brows. He must’ve been transported into a universe where nothing makes sense. “What are you on about?”

Phil sighs, but when he talks again, his voice isn’t quieter. “You didn’t text me, that’s fine, maybe you lost my number, but at least don’t pretend we didn’t have sex in the bathroom at that Roxy Da Costa’s fucking party!”

“What?”

“I’m not gonna be in this little game of yours, where you cheat on your boyfriend with whoever you want, then act like you don’t remember.”

“We had sex?” Dan’s mind is miles behind, trying to understand.

“Good luck, your video will be with Gib in the next couple of days.”


	7. Chapter 7

He stands in the middle of the living room, completely stunned. Not even the slamming of the door awakens him. His brain has short-circuited and is refusing to work again.

When it does, it seems like hours have passed. The whole world kept turning, but he was left behind. It’s a lot to process, so he starts with something menial, something he doesn’t really have to think about. His phone is dead. He wanders around the apartment, looking for a charger. He finds one in a drawer of the TV stand. He plugs it in in the kitchen. He tries to keep his mind empty so he doesn’t have time to freak out.

It’s the first thing he sees when he opens Twitter. The headlines, again, are screaming at him.

_ Daniel and Harry! Get all the exclusives here! _

_ Daniel Howell is dating Harry Styles? The sauciest secrets of their romance! _

_ #dick is dead, long live #darry _

He feels sick to his stomach. What the fuck happened now? He hates to think about it, but could it be possible that Phil has started rumours? He reads a couple more headlines, accidentally clicking on one of them, containing details about him and Harry that happened before Dan met Phil. And Phil didn’t know who Dan was talking to.

That brings him to his second freakout: Phil. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get his angry voice out of his head, but it seems impossible. Apparently, it was Phil Dan had sex with at Roxy’s party. And due to some wicked masterplan, the universe put them together again, this time professionally, but took away Dan’s memories. 

And that’s how Dan ends up on the floor, crying. He’s losing it, the grip on his life, on his career, on his friends. He knows it all comes with fame, but it’s awful. It’s a full-on sob, a proper breakdown. A week ago, his life seemed to be together. He had good friends, music he was proud of, a label that he liked to work with, most of the time. But that was a week ago, and seven days can change a lot.

Now, in an unknown apartment, he’s completely alone, and his whole life is breaking. He realised that his music is under heavy creative control by someone who isn’t him. His friends probably hate him. Roxy doesn’t reply to him anymore, probably fed up with Dan’s shit. Maybe Harry is angry. At Dan or at the gossip sites, it doesn’t matter, but Dan’s a part of this. Nick is far away. The music video for one of his favourite songs he’s ever written, a song that was supposed to be his big comeback after procrastinating it for a year didn’t turn out the way he wanted it do. He’s being blackmailed by a homophobe. And to top it off, he had sex with Phil and he doesn’t even remember.

 

He is on autopilot after that. He orders an Uber and goes home, refusing to think or do things besides basic self-care. He doesn’t reply to messages. He knows he has worried messages from Nick and maybe Harry. He doesn’t read them either. He lets the phone vibrate on his bedside table for the next three days as he vegetates in bed. He ignores all the messages from his management which is equal to a deathwish. But he doesn’t care. He’s hiding. From the world, from himself, from the truth that’s somewhere deep inside him. He can’t go on like this. He can’t have his whole life, whole career be dictated by someone else. He’s lost control over everything.

In moments like this, he truly hates the label polished Daniel Howell. He hates thinking about the cover of GQ, about how his face is displayed at Piccadilly Circus, how he’s on the side of buses. To torment himself, he often watches people sing covers of his songs. It’s not a torture because they’re bad. They’re very good, actually. But he wants that, he wants to make music on his own terms, have complete control over the content he makes. He’s a sad, pathetic loser who’s afraid of the change he so desperately needs.

 

On the fourth day of his hiding, there’s a knock on his front door. His phone is still on his bedside table, with notifications from the past couple of days. He’s only eating, sleeping and watching YouTube and Netflix, afraid of facing the future.

It takes a lot of energy to walk the short distance between his bed and his front door. The state of his apartment is awful, takeaway boxes, rubbish and dirty laundry everywhere. The curtains are half closed, the whole place looks like a vampire’s den.

The knock happens again, more violent this time. Dan opens the door and he sees Gib. He’s not looking happy. His best selling product can’t just drop off the face of the earth for four days.

“Fucking finally,” Gib says, marching straight into Dan’s flat. He takes a look around the place and the state of it, before looking at Dan himself. He’s wearing a Chinese food stained T-shirt and boxers only. He hasn’t brushed his hair in four days. He vaguely remembers brushing his teeth last night, but he’s not sure of that either. “What the fuck, Dan?”

“Leave me be.”

“Did you see any of my messages?”

“No.” Dan knows there’s no point in lying.

“The music video was posted yesterday.” Dan shrugs. He doesn’t care. “It’s gone viral.”

“Okay.”

Dan rocks on his feet, wishing Gib would go away. Maybe, in a couple of days, Dan will have enough energy to do some damage control, but that day is not now.

“Why are you so fucking dismissive?”

“What do you want me to say? My life is in shambles.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?” Gib crosses his arms.

“It’s not, no. To be fair, I don’t give a shit that it’s falling apart.”

“Is this about you and Harry? Because you should be happy I did that. You and your bloody fucking Twitter again.”

A jolt of energy runs through Dan. He suddenly feels awake. “What did you just say?” he asks quietly.

“Don’t act so surprised. The only thing I’ve been doing for you this past week or so is making sure you don’t set yourself on fire.”

“That was you? You started that fucking rumour?”

“Who did you think it was? Santa Claus?” Dan stares at Gib, unable to say anything. “You need to be on the top of your game, Dan. You’ve got an album to promote, interviews to do. The BRIT Awards are coming soon, we needed to get your stuff out for this award cycle. Lucky for you that you have me, I made your lawsuit go away.”

Anger bubbles inside of Dan. It doesn’t feel so sudden, because the little voice in the back of his head has been telling him. He knows what the music industry is like, of course he does. He knows that to be Daniel Howell, he had to distance himself from the nerdy loser from Wokingham. He let his manager, his label, the execs walk all over him for the money. For them, it’s nothing but that. He should’ve listened to that voice when it said to leave. He should’ve listened to Phil.

It’s one thing to leak the song, to let his director leave. Over the years, Dan’s accepted the miserable opportunities he had to do in order to get where he is today. He accepted that because he knew it was for the best. But now Gib did something truly horrible and ruined one of the truest friendships he’s ever had.

The thin shell that’s been holding back all that anger finally breaks. “Get out.”

“Come on, Dan, you know I had to.”

“Get the fuck out! I’m done! I quit!” he yells.

Gib laughs. The motherfucker has the audacity to laugh. “You can’t and you know that. You think because you’re having one of your bloody brain farts you can just terminate your contract? We still own you.”

“I don’t care.” Dan feels sick. When he woke up today, he didn’t image his day going like this. “I’m done. Keep the rights, I don’t give a fuck, but I’m out.”

Gib sighs as he shakes his head. “You’re making a mistake. In two days, you’ll be back in my office, begging me to take you back.”

Dan turns away, angry tears in his eyes. “Leave.”

After another sigh, he hears receding steps, then the door opens before slamming shut. At the same time, Dan falls on his knees, another a full-on sob racking his body. He’s alone. He doesn’t have a label, a manager or any friends. He’s alone, frighteningly alone, for the first time in years.


	8. Chapter 8

He lets himself to be sad for 5 minutes. He has shit to do and, as awful as he feels, he needs to deal with that. First thing on his list: mend his relationship with Roxy.

Okay, that’s probably not the highest priority he should have, but he misses her an awful lot. He doesn’t even know if she’s in London at all. He needs her. It’s selfish, but he needs her. Besides, if there’s one person he trusts who can get shit done, it’s Roxy.

Dan wipes his face. He opens all his curtains, letting late afternoon sunshine in. He even opens a window. Facing his apartment, he no longer sees its emptiness; he sees opportunities, he sees a blank canvas and trips to Ikea. He got the clean slate he wanted. Now, he can really be who he wants, both personally and professionally.

He goes to his bedroom. As he sits on the edge of his bed, he dismisses all the missed calls and texts, all the emails, all the other notifications. A fresh start. He goes into his messages first, ignoring everyone’s. He’s looking for Roxy’s, but there are none from her. She really is pissed, but Dan knows just the way to win her over. He checks Instagram: there’s a story update from Roxy. Knowing her, she delayed the post, but she had brunch earlier today at her favourite cafe. So she is in London.

**Dan (18:02)**

_i know you’re mad at me and you have evrey right to be. i know i’ve been ignoring you and honestly you don’t deserve that. you’re my favourite person roxyboxy and the way i’ve been treating you is fucking awful. i know you probably won’t be able to forgive me rigth away but at least can we have a chat face to face? I’ll bring the baileys_

He sits back, taking a deep breath. He knows Roxy won’t be able to turn down Bailey’s. Dan knows her, he knows what she likes and how he can charm her again.

While he waits, he checks Instagram again. Nick’s stories show he’s back in the studio, feeling better. Harry’s only story, from 23 hours ago, is a photo of a cappuccino. Dan doesn’t care about the other people in his contacts. He refreshes his feed, only to see a new promotional photo from Roxy’s latest photoshoot. It was posted two minutes ago and it’s quite the photo. She’s wearing a skater shirt and a tank top, but she did something Dan knows is rare. Roxy displaying her prosthetic arm is pretty fucking amazing because she never does it during a photoshoot.

**Dan (18:08)**

_saw the pic on ig i’m proud of you babe. it’s amazing you look beautiful_

**Dan (18:08)**

_also I know you ahve a crush on jameela so if you don’t reply i’ll have to set you up_

It’s a dick move, Dan knows, but he also knows this will get her attention.

 **roxy ✌** ⚣ **♑ (18:09)**

_u bitch u wouldn’t_

Dan smiles to himself as he dials Roxy.

“What?” she says as soon as they’re connected.

“Don’t hang up, just listen to me, please?” Dan hears a defeated sigh on the other end. _That’s a start,_ he thinks. “I fucked up. I know that, I’m sorry. I hate that I didn’t have time for you.”

“Yeah, you didn’t! What was our number one rule?”

“That we keep each other in the loop.”

“Yeah, that’s right. This has been going on for months, Dan. First, it was cancelled dinners, then missed calls, then you just stopped seeing me. I know I can’t demand it and you’re busy. But you’re one of my favourite peeps, Danny, and you shut me out.”

“I know, I know,” Dan says as he rubs the bridge of his nose. “Look, can I come over? I want to have a heart to heart.”

“You better bring the Bailey’s then.”

Dan smiles a bit. “See you in a bit.”

 

He knocks on Roxy’s door an hour later. He has the promised drink, as well as a (very big) box of chocolates.

She looks pissed off. Stunning as always, wearing only a long, black top that reaches her mid-thighs and a black flowery robe. But she definitely looks pissed. And she has every right to be.

“Hey, babe,” Dan says softly, testing the waters. “I’ve missed you.” She sighs, opening the door further and leaving Dan to enter on his own. He walks in, closing the door behind him and follows Roxy to her bedroom. She’s already on the bed, on her stomach, typing on her phone. Dan sets the bottle and the box on the bedside table, kicks his shoes off and lies next to her. “Hey.”

Roxy puts down the phone. “You twat.”

“I know, I deserve that. Out with the rest.”

“You were a massive wanker. I know you had your own shit, but when was the last time we actually talked?” Dan’s heart aches because she’s right. “I know I haven’t been the bestest of friends either, but at least I messaged you, _filho da puta._ ” He knows shit’s real when she speaks Portugese.

“I know and I don’t ask you to forgive me right away.”

“I’ve seen the shit you’re going through, Dan. The leaking, Harry, everything.”

“Yeah, that was…” Dan takes a deep breath. It’s all coming back, the stuff he’s been repressing all afternoon. He quit, he really did, he ended the contract of his dreams. He hasn’t had the chance to think about what he will do. “It was all Gib and the label. I finally had enough.”

Roxy goes wide-eyed. “You left?”

“I did, yeah.” He smiles, part proud, part terrified. He’d rather be a self-made singer with no contract, a one man band than a sad, purpose-built product of some bullies.

“Oh, Dan!” she leans over, kissing his head. “I’m still mad at you, but also proud. You should’ve done it sooner.”

“I know. I just… I just didn’t know what to do. Still don’t.” Phil’s words still echo in his ears. Change is scary, but it’s the thing he needs exactly.

“You can start by telling me everything.”

And Dan does. He tells her about all the bullying, about his music, about what needs to be cut, about the real Linwood, about how everything in the past couple of weeks was fabricated and orchestrated by Gib. He tells her how awful it felt and how good he feels now, the relief the massive tidal wave brought. He also tells him about Phil and how he’s unable to forget about him.

“So now, I have music that still belongs to them, but honestly, I don’t even care about the rights, it just feels so awesome to be free.”

“Have you watched the video? It’s good.”

“No, I was just kind of hiding. I don’t want to.”

“You should,” she says, which makes him feel weird. Seeing he’s pressured, she asks, “Have you announced it yet?”

Dan shakes his head. “This literally happened two hours ago. I came right here.” He bumps against her shoulder. “I don’t know what to do now. I kinda want to do it before Gib or anyone releases a statement.”

“It’s a shitstorm,” Roxy agrees. “They just lost their most valuable asset.”

Dan can’t help but laugh at that. “You’re making me sound like some sort of fucking spy. I love it.” There’s a bit of silence between them, before Dan says, “I’ve missed you, Roxyboxy. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know. Let’s have a drink and you can redeem yourself by singing me _Faded Dreams._ ”

Dan nods; it’s a least he can do. It’s one of his earliest songs, not popular like _Diss Track,_ but it’s Roxy’s favourite.

They sit up and Roxy opens the bottle. She takes a long sip of the Bailey’s before handing it to Dan. He needs all the liquid courage he can get. He trusts his voice, he trusts his abilities and talent, but singing without actual music is always nerve-wracking for him.

He closes his eyes; it helps him hear the melody better in his head. The song is still too raw for him. It’s nothing like his usual songs, it’s not Dan-hop as music magazines would call it. He wrote it after an argument and subsequent falling out with his parents. It’s not about his faded dream, but his parents’: they wanted him to study something sensible at university, so Dan ended up enrolling to do law, but he dropped out. It was only one of many arguments he had with his parents about his music, about his career choices. They wanted him to be someone he isn’t. Now, the only time they ever interact with him is when they wish him a happy birthday or when Dan sends them a card for Christmas.

The song hits hard. It took him an hour to write it and he didn’t even change any of it. He still has the tearstained paper somewhere. He sings the song, pure and raw, the emotions clutching his heart, but now it has a new meaning, especially the verse ‘ _You wanted me to be someone I don’t know / You gave me an alter ego to borrow / But that person is just a lookalike / it isn’t me, we’re nothing alike’._ Now he’s fully ready to let go of Daniel Howell and be Dan again.

When he finishes the song, he’s crying. He’s a mess, his career is gone, but his soul, well, that’s happier. The tears are sad, relieved, joyous, terrified, guilt-ridden, anxious, everything all condensed into a couple of drops. He takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling. He wipes his tears and looks at Roxy. She’s crying as well, but holding her phone, clearly recording Dan’s singing.

“Rox--”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she says quietly like she doesn’t want to break the fragility of the atmosphere. “That was beautiful.” She’s biting down on her lower lip as she’s looking at her phone, clearly thinking. “I think you should… I think you should record a message for your fans, put it at the end of this video and upload it to YouTube.”

Dan looks at her, but not really focus on her face. He could. That would be the ultimate fuck you to his label and Gib. “Yeah,” he says weakly.

Roxy leans over and kisses his forehead. “Good boy.” She’s quiet for a second. “What about the director?”

“Linwood?” She nods. “Apparently that’s gone, but I don’t know if it’ll stay gone now that I left. If he comes back, I’ll get him to sign an NDA or something.”

“What about the other guy? The one who did the _Diss Track.”_

The butterflies in Dan’s stomach suddenly revive. “Phil.”

“Have you tried calling him? Sounds like you’ve got the hots for him.”

It’s that obvious? He wants someone who wasn’t his to begin with. His mind was drunk and forgetful when he had sex with him in Roxy’s bathroom, but apparently, his heart wasn’t.

“No, I… The way we parted… I was a dick to him as well.”

“You could try calling him or at least text him. Apologise, you know.”

Dan shrugs. “I don’t have his number. Besides, I don’t think he wants to hear from me.”

“Oh, speaking of, Harry’s been looking for you. Nick, as well.”

“Are they pissed?” Dan asks, already terrified of her answers. He doesn't want to lose Harry, too.

“No, of course not. They’re just worried about you.”

Dan nods. It’s time to repair all the broken relationships.

“But back to Phil. Why don’t you try?” Roxy asks like it’s the easiest thing to do. “You’ve got nothing to lose. Tell you what, I’ll leave you alone to record that message while I hunt down his number? Then we’ll post that video.” Dan nods, but he’s unsure. It sounds terrifying and way too real. “The world needs to hear that song, Dan. I don’t think you realise how beautiful it was.”

Dan nods again. Roxy does leave him alone in there, alone with his thoughts. He knows what she’s saying sounds reasonable. He is (was?) here because of his talent, that’s true, but also the support he got from his fans. They need to know.

He lifts his phone so that he can film a video, thumb hovering over the ‘record’ button. He hesitates. There is a lot to say, some too harsh. He wants to say something clear and simple, that cannot be twisted. Even if he sat hours on this bed, thinking about what to say exactly, he wouldn’t be able to come up with something like that. He needs to trust his heart, because it’s singing a melody that’s ready to burst out.

Dan hits record, and starts talking.

“Uh, hey guys, Dan here.” He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what’s to come. “This is not a video I ever thought I’d be making. If you’re here, you know what’s going on. A lot of stuff happened in the past week or so and most of it wasn’t… nice. Some of it is my fault, which I do apologise for. But some is completely untrue. I’ve dropped off the radar for a couple of days because I had to. I’m not brave, I couldn’t face it. At first. But now I’m here and I’m here making this video, because you deserve to know.”

“Without saying anything specific, some things were done by people, not to hurt me or anyone else, but because they thought it would be best for my career as a singer. But, that made me realise the underlying issue. I’ve come to realise that thing have always happened and always will. And that isn’t me.”

“My music is something I’m very proud of, something I would want to be proud of, but the situation I was in wouldn’t exactly allow it. I want to make music, write songs, create stuff the way I want them to be, not how others tell me it should be. It’s something that’s always been there in the back of my head, but today, well, it was fully realised.”

“So, the too long, didn’t read version of it is: I quit Thunder Records, fully terminating my contract with them. It’s terrifying really, but I’m excited about the new chapter. I don’t know what will happen in the future, but here’s what I’m planning: I’m gonna make new social media accounts, all the details will be posted on the Daniel Howell Twitter. For a bit, I’d like to focus on my new music without any of the stress. I’m asking you to be patient, you’ll be the first to know when I’ve got something new coming. I’d like to put out new songs without worrying about creative control, so I’m thinking of uploading a couple of songs on Youtube, just to try it out.”

“Finally, I would like to say some stuff to a couple of people. Roxy, who I’m quite sure is listening on the other side of this door, without you, this video wouldn’t exist. Nick, thanks for listening to my endless rants. Harry, I’m sorry you got dragged into this shitstorm. And finally, the director of the music video for _Diss Track_. I’m sorry, I really am. For everything.”

“But, I think, the biggest thank you is yours. Without you guys supporting me, supporting my music, none of this would’ve been possible. Thank you for allowing me to be on this journey, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us.”


	9. epilogue - four months later

Dan checks himself in the mirror. The white suit and black shirt are looking wrinkleless, but he wants to look good. Better than good. This is his first public appearance since he terminated his contract and went independent.

The past four months were… some of the best. It’s not even an exaggeration. He’s been writing songs, a lot of it, actually. He enjoys the complete creative freedom. He rebranded, in a way. It’s still Dan, it’s still his music, but Daniel Howell, the persona created by the label, is gone. Now all his social media accounts are his own, under the name ‘Dan Howell’. He puts up a new song on his Youtube channel every couple of weeks and does little vlogs here and there. Sure, managing everything himself is stressful: his merch store, his Spotify and iTunes accounts, doing the marketing and controlling his bookings. Still, he loves it, because it’s finally his, not someone else’s.

He looks up, at the reflection of his face. He looks happier, and that’s just a fact. He’s never enjoyed making music more.

But beneath all the happiness, which is as genuine as it gets, there’s something missing. Someone. The longing is there and has been for the past four months. Roxy being Roxy managed to get Phil’s number. Dan wasn’t sure why he wasn’t able to let go. He was clinging to something that never really happened. He still is. He called, texted, even bloody emailed Phil, but nothing. He wrote long messages, lengthy apologetic ones and shorter ‘you were right’ ones. He never gets any replies.

Which, of course, is alright. It’s not like Phil owes him anything. They don’t really know each other and those couple of hours they spent together (minus the bathroom shenanigans) were filled with arguing. He doesn’t know why he can’t just forget about Phil. Maybe because Phil changed his life, in a way, or at least ignited the fire that led to all the fireworks.

“You ready?” Roxy walks into the room as she’s fixing her gown. She looks glamorous, she’s wearing a hot pink, form-fitting floor length dress with the body bedazzled with tiny crystals. “Oh my, that’s an outfit.”

“You look breathtaking.”

Roxy laughs. “Alright, keep it in your pants, I’m still gay.”

“So am I, but that’s just a fact.”

Roxy rolls her eyes. As she does, Nick walks in, wearing a plain black suit with some kind of weird brooch on his lapel. “He’s telling the truth.” He winks at Roxy as he steps next to her, putting his arm around her waist. “Everyone will swoon, but it’s gonna be me mostly.”

“What about your fiance?” Dan teases him.

“Oh, she said I’m allowed. She said Roxy is the only one I’m allowed to leave her for because she’ll be leaving  _ me  _ for her as well.”

“Ah, the truest of loves,” Roxy says putting her hand on her heart.

“We’re gonna be late if we’re not leaving soon.” This time, it’s Harry who walks in. He’s one of the boring ones as well with his black suit and black shirt. “What a pathetic bunch.”

“You love us,” Dan says with a grin. After the article about their affair was published, they didn’t do damage control. They could’ve denied it or gone out on very public dates with others. But instead, they did the reasonable thing: they sat down and had a chat (which then turned into a sleepover with horror films and pizza, but that’s a different story). Their friendship is now stronger than ever.

“God, I do.”

 

The red carpet of the BRIT Awards is always hectic. But now, the journalists are trying to get the attention of Dan for a single quote. He’s the hottest, most valuable commodity of the red carpet, there’s no reason to deny that. He doesn’t hate award ceremonies, but they’re not his favourites either. Some people are there to have fun, while others just want to get shitfaced and start chaos. But this time, he’s got his favourite people. It was easy to convince them, all Dan had to promise was pizza. A lot of it, but it was easy.

The pose together as a group first. He’s sure they would’ve been fine on their own or with other dates, but Dan’s really liking this setup. Time seems to stop as cameras flash and journalists shout. Then by an assistant they’re dragged apart, everyone just wants a picture of Dan.

He does his best to pose normally, but he’s awkwardly tall (after all, the line in his  _ Diss Track _ is true, he does look like a noodle) and he’s got a lot of limbs and zero control over them. He manages, barely, but he does. As he turns his head to give them a different angle, he sees a familiar figure in the distance, almost ghostlike. His heart starts beating faster because there’s a possibility he just saw Phil.

The Phil he’s been looking for. The Phil he’s been longing for. The Phil he wants.

When he looks again, there’s no one there. Maybe it’s his mind playing a trick, maybe… Maybe there’s a chance Phil’s here.

He can’t think about this for long, because an assistant guides him towards a journalist. It’s a journalist he likes because he isn’t nosy or rude like the others. 

“Jimmy Hill,” he says.

“I remember you.” Dan grins. It’s rare that a journalist makes a lasting impression, but this one did. “You’re not trying to cause trouble, so this is your lucky evening mate. You’re the only one who’s getting an interview.”

Jimmy smiles which reaches his pale blue eyes. “How are you, Dan?”

“I’m good! Things are good,” Dan says, trying to outshout the noisiness of the red carpet. “Youtube is going good, the fans are liking the new stuff. I certainly do.”

“People are curious, are you going back to any label? You must be getting a lot of deals.”

“I do, yeah. It’s something I’m considering, but not actively thinking about. I love doing everything I do right now.”

“Any hopes for tonight?”

“A lot of fun with my friends! That’s all I’m here for.”

“Alright, thank you, good luck!”

“Thanks!”

 

Soon, they’re ushered into the O2 Arena. Dan would rather be home in his jammies, watching the whole thing on the TV. But he’s here so might as well enjoy it.

They get champagne for the whole table, slowly sipping the pearly bubble. Four more people are at their table, three of them are already there, but there’s an empty seat on Dan’s right. There’s no name card or anything, so he figures it’s going to stay empty.

The ceremony starts with a big bang. This time, Dan isn’t performing. He was thinking about it, but in the end decided against it. He wants to take it slowly, despite the fact he was nominated for 3 categories.

The lights are flashing as Dua Lipa sings  _ New Rules _ . Dan’s not really paying attention to it; instead, he uses the performance to text Phil.

It’s a bad habit, the fucking worst, really. He’s never replied to any of his messages, but he hasn’t blocked him yet either. At this point, this is just the status quo. He doesn’t even bother reading the previous unread messages. He usually sends a text every day, which is creepy, but he’s determined to apologise. If he’s feeling very lonely, Phil might end up with three. He’s the pathetic white boy who can’t let go of his crush.

**Dan (20:14)**

_ hey me again uh one of these days you’ll get sick of me and block me but I really want to talk to you _

 

Dan’s not paying attention to anything, he’s already thinking about ditching this, and going home without even stopping by at the afterparty. He’s bored and he has barely any reason to be here. He loves the three people he’s with, but he’s exhausted from all the socialising. When the ‘British Single of The Year’ comes up, Roxy pokes him in the side. He rolls his eyes, but forces his mind to focus.

The presenters introduce the nominees; it’s a tough competition and Dan’s not hoping for anything. He feels a camera on himself as the presenters pause (necessary, but very annoying), then suddenly, they’re shouting his name. “ _ Diss Track  _ by Daniel Howell!” 

He fakes a smile as he stands up and walks towards the stage. He has no fucking clue what he’s going to say because he didn’t think he would win.

The applause is loud and he can’t really hear the presenters congratulating him, but the award is shoved into his hand before he’s guided in front of the microphone.

“Uh,” he starts, but his voice cracks. “Thank you! This always means a lot, but this time around, it’s everything. Thank you!”

He quickly walks away, before he can embarrass himself. He probably could’ve said more, but he froze. Backstage, he’s welcomed by ushers, technicians and musicians. Everyone’s looking stressed or fabulous, or the mix of the two. Someone takes the award from him for engraving, and he’s about to be guided back to his table, when he sees  _ him. _

At the back, in a black suit with some kind of fancy lapels that shimmers just right in the spotlight. He has his phone in his hand, but he’s looking at Dan. Phil is there and looking at him. He’s leaning against the wall, with a small smile on his lips.

“Hey,” Dan says softly. He walks closer to Phil, but maintains the three feet distance.

“Every day.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Dan expects him to be pissed, but Phil is still smiling. “It’s endearing, really. Very annoying, but flattering.”

“Sorry.”

Phil shrugs. “I know you’re busy, but can we talk afterwards?”

“Talk now,” Dan says very eagerly. He isn’t even ashamed of how quickly he said it. 

He can hear someone performing nearby, it’s loud, but Dan can feel his heart going mental. Phil’s looking at him, studying his face. There is no anger, no tension. Well, that’s not true, there is tension, but it’s a good one. He wants this to happen.

“Okay,” Phil says finally, as he starts walking away. Dan follows him like a lost puppy because in a way he is. He’s about to ask how Phil knows where they’re going, but like a mind reader, he says, “I did a documentary here about the music scene, I know where everything is.”

In the end, they end up in the basement, where the dressing rooms are. It’s surprisingly quiet, with no one in sight. Dan half-expected PAs and shouting celebs. Phil randomly tries a door that has no name or sign on it. It’s open; it’s nothing but a small dressing room with a faux leather couch, a dressing table with one of those light up mirrors and a flimsy plastic chair.

Phil lets Dan go into the room first who awkwardly stands by the table. Phil looks out into the corridor, before closing and locking the door. Dan can’t help but feel worried: his fight or flight instinct is triggered by the upcoming shouting.

But that doesn’t come. Instead, Phil slowly, but with a purpose walks towards him, until the back of Dan’s thighs hit the edge of the desk. They’re close, too close for a normal chat and definitely too close for arguing.

Phil unhurriedly raises his arm, putting his hand on Dan’s chest, whose eyes flutter shut. It’s just one single touch, but he’s sure Phil can feel how hard his heart is beating. “Phil,” Dan whispers. It’s not enough anymore, he wants to hear him. 

“Why were you such an arsehole?” His voice is quiet, but painfully raw. It breaks Dan’s heart.

“I’m sorry.” He promised himself if he met Phil again, he wouldn’t cry. He’s seriously failing at that. “I blamed you for telling me something I didn’t see. I blamed you because I thought you’d be ruining my music video. I watched it, it’s bloody great. You’re great.” Dan takes a deep, shaky breath, slowly exhaling. “My head was in a haze, all caused by Gib and that stupid label. I didn’t want to argue with you, but my music was attacked for so long I thought you were doing the same. Honestly, we met at the wrong time and the wrong place. Roxy’s party… God, I wish I could remember. I was wasted and you didn’t deserve that like you didn’t deserve me shouting at you all the time. I don’t think I deserve you now.”

Phil is breathing loudly, but doesn’t say anything. His hand is still on Dan’s chest and he’s still looking at him, perplexed. “What about all the texts?”

Dan blushes, the redness reaching his ears. “I couldn’t get you out of my head. It was fucking creepy, I was the annoying prick, I know. But I hoped to get a reply.”

“Hmm.” The silence that falls on them is heavy. There are a lot of things still unsaid, some doesn’t even need to be spoken. All Dan wants to know is that ‘what now?’ Phil is the first to break the quiet. “You might not remember Roxy’s party, but I do.” Dan swallows hard. “I was invited by one of Roxy’s artist friends. I saw you in the kitchen, drinking Malibu straight out of the bottle. You looked at me and just told me to follow you. But gosh,“ Phil shakes his head, “you were so fucking pretty, And sexy, definitely sexy, with your hair all messy. All I could think about is running my fingers through it.” To illustrate his point, Phil moves his hand from Dan’s chest to Dan’s fluffy curls. He moans into the gentle touch. “You took me to that bathroom, shoved me against the door…”

There is a distant memory in Dan’s mind, something he can’t grasp. “I’m so sorry for taking advantage of you,” he says quietly, as he leans closer to Phil. It’s not within kissing distance, but it’s getting there.

“I’m not.” He tugs as Dan’s locks. “Your mouth tasted so sweet, I got drunk just by kissing you.” Dan moans again. “I couldn’t stop licking into your mouth.” Phil leans closer, but instead of Dan’s lips, he bites into the soft part of his ear. Dan’s moaning is getting louder. “That would’ve been more than enough for me, but God…”

“What happened, Phil?” Dan grabs the lapels of Phil’s suit, pulling him closer. Carefully, Phil guides him up onto the desk. He opens his legs wide enough for Phil to stand between them.

Phil bites into his neck this time. “You gave me a hickey, right here.” He sucks on Dan’s skin. “Then you undid my jeans.”

“Fuck, you’re killing me.”

“At first, I thought nothing would be better than kissing you. Then you knelt down, pulled my jeans down…” Phil turns his attention to the other side of Dan’s neck. He’s clinging onto Phil, dick already hard underneath the white fabric of the suit. He could come just by this teasing. “You took me in your mouth and I didn’t see stars, I saw a whole fucking universe.”

“Fuck me, Phil, I’m begging you.” He knows it’s all happening way too fast but he spent the last four months coming up with daydreams about their bathroom shenanigans which then he used as wanking material. He’s waited enough.

“Later,” Phil whispers against Dan’s lips and suddenly Dan doesn’t know what’s more exciting: the imminent kiss or the possibility of a later. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you and your bloody mouth. That’s all I could imagine, you going down on me.” Phil runs his finger along Dan’s lower lip who softly bites into it before taking it in his mouth to suck on it. Phil groans. “We will ruin the suits.”

“Ask me if I care,” and with that, Dan puts his hand on the back of Phil’s head, pulling him in for a kiss. The kiss of a lifetime.

Now that everything is clear and he’s not under the influence of alcohol, he can truly appreciate the way Phil’s teeth graze his lower lip or the way he licks into his mouth. He pulls him as close as possible, pressing against him so he can feel just how hard he made Dan. But in return, Dan also feels the shape of Phil’s equally hard erection. He should focus on kissing Phil, because this isn’t a good kiss, this is fucking fantastic, but he wants to taste Phil and actually remember how he tastes.

“Dan,” Phil moans into the kiss.

Dan puts a hand on Phil’s stomach, slowly dragging it downwards. He ever so slightly brushes against the bulge through the suit trousers. “I want you,” he whispers back, never really leaving this kiss.

“Later.” There it is again, that later, that single word that makes the butterflies flutter in Dan’s stomach. “I want to taste you now.”

They haven’t done anything yet, but Dan’s ready to burst. He’s eagerly nodding and with the help of Phil, he quickly gets rid of his white trousers. He sits back on the edge of the desk and watches Phil fall to his knees.

The white boxers he’s wearing are already wet with precome. He locks eyes with Phil; it’s a silent answer to a silent question, but Dan wants to make sure. Phil doesn’t back away. Instead, he kisses the inside of Dan’s thighs, just where the fabric ends. Dan can feel the heat radiating from him and he’s so excited.

Phil puts his mouth on the tip through the fabric of the boxers and Dan moans loudly in response. It echoes between the beige walls and he doesn’t care if anyone hears it. He lets his head tip backwards as Phil continues with his magic. Dan puts his fingers in his silky black hair, just holding it there. 

“Phil, I’m begging you…”

The boxer is quickly disregarded. Phil digs his fingers into Dan’s thighs as he watches his rock hard dick. Dan is breathing heavily, heart going crazy in his chest.

Painfully slowly, Phil licks the tip of Dan’s cock, tongue barely there, but it’s making him shudder. The fingers in Phil’s hair tug a bit more, as Phil takes the tip into his mouth; Dan could cry out with happiness.

Phil moans contently as he takes more and more, going halfway down. Dan’s really close and he doesn’t even want this to last. He’s been ready for the past couple of months.

Then, Phil’s teeth graze the very sensitive skin and Dan yelps.

“Oi, watch your teeth mate,” Dan breathes.

Phil pulls off, leaning his head against Dan’s thigh. He’s looking up, saliva glistening on his lips. “You deserved that. I don’t know why I couldn’t forget you.” Phil exhales, the cold air against Dan’s wet dick is sending shivers down his spine. “You were so mean and rude and I should’ve been able to forget you, but I just couldn’t. I kept thinking about you.”

“I kept thinking about you, too.” Dan gently cups Phil’s face. “Why didn’t you message me back though? We could’ve stopped the suffering.”

“You deserved the penance. And I saw your first Youtube video and I figured you wanted to focus on that. So I went to New York to work for a couple of months, to give you space. I got back yesterday.”

“Is this too fast?” Dan asks quietly as he runs his fingers through Phil’s hair.

“No. I think we waited long enough.”

“ _ On My Mind  _ is about you,” Dan admits. He couldn’t help but write one of his new songs about Phil, about the missed opportunities, about regret and about how he can’t stop thinking about him. About wanting to see him again. He never named the person he’s singing about, but he knew if Phil listened to it, it would be clear as day.

Phil hums. “I know.”

Dan closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, Phil.”

Phil doesn’t reply, instead takes Dan back into his mouth. The motion is swift and sudden, but Dan gladly welcomes it. He’s swirling his tongue around Dan’s dick with expert motions, before bopping his head up and down a couple of times.

Dan’s already a mess. He moans loudly, curses every known God as Phil swallows around him, fingers still digging into his thighs. It doesn’t last long.

He can’t even say anything, he’s literally mind-blown, so he just pats Phil’s shoulder with urgency to warn him. Phil doesn’t pull off, but instead swallows everything Dan has to give, working his way through his orgasm.

And it’s the best orgasm he’s had. Ever. He really is a goner for Phil.

“Fuck, Dan,” Phil sighs as he wipes his mouth. He sits on his heels, looks up at Dan, the very dishevelled Dan swimming in ecstasy. “You look gorgeous.”

Dan’s sure he isn’t, but he still blushes. “Phil, you… That was… Oh…”

Phil laughs at Dan’s inability to form words. He stands up, immediately going in for the kiss, pushing Dan as far as the mirror behind him lets him. Dan can taste the bitterness of himself on Phil’s tongue. It’s a passionate, but sweet kiss. He’s holding Phil close, never wanting to let him go again.

“Glad I could render you speechless.” Phil laughs, then he bites into Dan’s lower lip.

“Can I? I’d like to remember what you taste like.”

“Later,” Phil promises. Dan’s starting to like that word. “Let’s get back, we’ve been gone long enough.”

Dan gets dressed and does his best to fix his look, but his cheeks are red, his hair is messy and his suit definitely looks wrinkled. People will know, but at this point, he doesn’t care.

Before they leave the dressing room, Dan pins Phil against the door, making sure he knows what he’s getting later. He kisses him with all his might, pressing against him, giving him the best kiss of his life.

“We can go now,” he says finally with a wicked grin. Phil rolls his eyes. He fixes his suit before opening the door. Their hands brush every so often, as they make their way back to the ceremony. “How did I end up wearing your pants by the way?”

“You spilt Malibu on them and refused to wear it wet or wear your jeans without boxers.”

“Oh.” God, Dan is the epitome of a pathetic drama queen, really. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You looked so hot because I knew they were mine.”

 

On stage, Sam Smith is performing. Dan doesn’t even ask Phil where he’s sitting, instead, he brings him back to his table. Roxy gives him a look, winking at him. Nick is utterly confused and Harry just laughs.

“Glad you had your fun, mate,” Harry teases him.

“Oh, yeah.” He looks at Phil, proudly smiling who just smiles back. “Everyone, this is Phil. Phil, I’m sure you’ve heard of Harry and Nick, and you know Roxy.”

“The famous Phil,” she says.

“Famous or infamous?” Phil giggles.

“What did we miss?”

“Oh, I don’t know, just you winning the best video,” Nick says nonchalantly. Dan and Phil look at each other, silently congratulating for their work. “Dude, your fans will be so happy to give you theories especially now that Phil is sitting here.”

“I’m sure they’ll come up with some good ones.”

Sam Smith finishes his performance as Little Mix walks out on the stage, holding an award. “And now, the British Male Solo Artist of the Year Award,” a bodiless announcer says.

Little Mix says something awkward and only borderline funny and Dan can’t help but cringe. “And the nominees are,” one of them says. “Stormzy!” Applause and shouting. Dan, from the corner of his eyes, sees a cameraman walking up to their table. “Ed Sheeran!” More applause and cheering. “Liam Gallagher! Daniel Howell!” the room roars. “Rag’n’Bone Man!”

“And the winner is…” The girls fumble with the letter. Dan feels the camera zooming in on him. They read the name, look at each other totally confused. “And the winner is Olly Murs!”

“What?” Harry says.

Everyone at their table and in the arena is utterly puzzled. Phil leans over to him, “I thought you’d have to be nominated to win an award.”

“Me and you, mate.”

If they’re confused, Olly Murs is even more so. He can’t do anything but walk up on the stage to accept his surprising award. A camera is following him, showing his truest reaction.

“Uh, thank you? This is surprising.” He clears his throat. “This is for all the other nominees, I guess.” He leaves the stage in a hurry.

“I’ve seen enough, I think I want to go home,” Dan says to Phil. “You coming home with me?”

Phil, with a smile on his lips, nods. “I’d love to.”

Dan turns towards Roxy and the others. “It’s been fun guys, but in a surprising twist of events, we’re gonna leave.”

“You’re ditching us for sex!” Nick says.

“Yeah, you want that D,” Roxy teases.

“Maybe stay sober this time?” Harry suggests.

“God, you three are the fucking worst. Brunch tomorrow?”

As soon as he gets three yeses, he stands up dragging Phil with him. On the stage, Rita Ora is performing, but he wants to get home as soon as possible.

They don’t really talk in the Uber, but Phil’s hand is on Dan’s thigh, very close to his crotch. The ride is too long for Dan’s liking. He can’t wait to be home with Phil and finally get his hands on him.

“We’re good, right?” Dan asks when they’re near his flat. “I know you probably need some time to forgive me properly, but…”

Phil leans over, kissing him softly for a few seconds. “We’re good. That’s the past; this is a new chapter.”

When they arrive, Dan has to restrain himself from tearing Phil’s clothes off in the lift. They reach the fourth floor in a matter of seconds, but it’s not soon enough. He opens his door and turns on some lights.

His flat is not empty anymore. It’s a place where he proudly brings Phil, with adult sofas and seating surfaces and furniture. A naughty thought appears in his mind: riding Phil on the grey sofa.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dan says when he closes the door.

“Can we… Can we start over again? Like we just met and we didn’t argue?” It surprises Dan to hear that. He thought Phil wouldn’t bury the hatchet so easily, but he’s glad that he is.

“Only if I can take you out on a proper first date.”

Phil laughs. “Is that before or after the sex? Should I leave?”

“No!” Dan says. It makes Phil laugh louder. “Sorry.”

“It’s nice.”

“So this is nice small talk, but can I fucking kiss you now?”

Instead of a reply, Phil steps in front of him, cupping Dan’s face as he kisses him. This time, it’s slow; they have nothing but time.

The past couple of months were hectic, to say the least. Dan’s music and career are in the best place possible. He’s happy with the songs he’s writing, happy with the melodies in his head. He’s thinking about recording and releasing an album on his own. Whatever the future holds for him, he knows it’s going to be good.

In a way, he’s glad he met Phil the way he did. If he was still the old Dan, the ungrateful Daniel Howell, the prick who was nasty to everyone, he wouldn’t be able to appreciate Phil. He’s glad he got a second chance with him. He isn’t letting him go anytime soon, and he’s ready for all the ‘laters’ Phil kept mentioning.

He’s not only closed the door on his past, letting go of all that anger, but in the process, he opened the door for a better future, a future that has Phil in it.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr [@outphan](http://outphan.tumblr.com)
> 
> if you liked the fic you can like/reblog it [here](http://outphan.tumblr.com/post/180145770664/undisclosed-desires)!  
> art for the fic by the amazing illodie can be found [here](https://illodie.tumblr.com/post/180150308975/my-piece-for-pbb-thanks-to-my-lovely-author)! 
> 
> (ps I'm not trying to make fun of Olly Murs, poor guy was just a running gag in the fic that started in my phan group chat!)


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